Twas the Night Before
by ZombieJazz
Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. Story is set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

Olivia exhaled a bit as she came in the door. Just getting home lifted some of the weight of the day – but in other ways it didn't. The exhaustion was almost too heavy for it to have any truly discernible affect. And, as stabilizing as she knew it was to come home to her kids and to her partner and to her own bed to try for a few hours sleep, there was another part of her that knew it'd almost be easier to have stayed in the bullpen and just grabbed a couple winks in the cribs or on the couch of her office. But that wasn't even creating the optics of balance between work and family. Though, a lot of times that felt like a true imbalance. A constant, exhausting struggle that forced you to get more of this weight. Stress and guilt in a different way.

But she was glad to be home. Truly. Even if only for a few restless hours. Even if to just hug and kiss her kids. To watch them sleep. And to maybe be held by Brian for at least a while while they both tried to find sleep that she knew was unlikely to come for either of them.

She peeled off her coat. She barely needed it. Their Christmas was destined to feel more like spring this year. The weather was more what they'd see in March than December – right down to the grey skies and endless rain they were getting. It almost had her praying for snow. Almost like it would be cleansing for the city. To momentarily grind the rush and hubbub to a halt. To blanket the world in that silence that only a fresh snowfall could bring in those hours before the city workers were out in the streets working to clear it up and clean it up. But more and more it wasn't until into January that the white stuff descended onto the city. And it never seemed to be at the moments that it was needed. And it always seemed to bring with it more pain – those hours or days of people snowed in too close proximity to each other or raging through the blizzard carelessly and angrily like they wouldn't be seen and called out when the storm cleared.

Brian gazed at her from the couch when she came out of the breezeway. Their little entry area that despite the lack of winter-weather they had yet had accumulated a family's depth of shoes and coats and boots and hats and mittens and umbrellas and rain jackets. A mess of children's outdoor clothing and sports equipment and school backpacks. A betrayal – and reminder – that she was a different person with different roles when she left the office. And that was why she came home. To get to be her – the other her, the her that she found herself wanting to be – for those few hours.

Olivia allowed Brian a thin smile as she padded over to him. Her knee resting on the couch as she leaned in to find his cheek – but caught his lips briefly instead as he turned to meet her. A short kiss. Her hand finding his shoulder and stabilizing herself – there – as she momentarily tucked her legs under herself and she stared at the television screen.

"It's A Wonderful Life," she mumbled of his viewing choice and gave him a bit of a look. Some days she wasn't sure she agreed with that sentiment. It was hard to after days like today. But beyond that, it definitely wouldn't be on Brian's list of Christmas viewing necessities. Though, his Christmas Movie list pretty much began and ended with Die Hard.

Olivia suspected that was just to egg her into a predictable argument about whether or not it qualified as a Christmas movie. They'd been together long enough she knew when not to engage. And, sometimes, to just give him what he wanted – if it wasn't hurting anyone. Brian enjoyed being a bit of an ass. And a bit of a tease. It was his way of trying to polish and blunt some of his rough edges. Though, more days than not she'd grown to, if not love to at least appreciate, the roughness he had to him. Maybe because she'd also known him long enough – love him enough, and he trusted her enough – to know that a lot of it was an act or walls built up as protection mechanisms. That Brian was still a man-child who'd grown up too quickly and beneath the rough exterior and beyond the short fuse – he was a teddy bear. He was just a man who was looking to feel worthy of love and appreciation. To have worth and value and purpose. And he'd spent more than forty years of his life working towards getting that. So he was allowed to say Die Hard was a Christmas movie. It really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. And it wasn't the worst movie ever to have to sit through once a year.

"Good movie …", she added, though, of his current viewing.

"Yea, well, 'course it is. It's black and white," he teased her gently.

She allowed him a thin smile for that effort and gave his bicep a little squeeze as she steadied herself more and sunk against the back of the couch staring at the screen.

"I'm sorry I'm so late," Olivia muttered some more – still watching the barely audible movie. Brian always had the television so low when he was alone in the house with the kids.

She felt his eyes on her and gave him a small glance.

"Had it on the news before," he said.

"Mmm …," she acknowledged and let her eyes move back to the screen.

"You guys," Brian said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. But Olivia still mouthed a 'yeah' for him. And she felt his eyes stay on her.

She exhaled a bit and looked at him again. The concern there. "I'm OK," she said. His eyes said he didn't entirely believe her. He was a cop. He knew. And he knew her.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and sighed. But she wasn't ready to broach … any of it, her day … yet. "What time did you get home?" she asked.

She knew she could probably figure it out on her own. She'd had texts come in on her phone from him throughout the evening. But she hadn't had time to look at them or read them or respond to them. Not on the job. And she knew if there was something she actually needed to hear – right then – Brian would call. If she'd gone too long without getting back to him – if he had reason to be concerned or vigilant – he'd call the Desk Sergeant at the Precinct. Or Fin or Rollins. He'd track her down. It was an unspoken – agreed on – procedure since … Lewis.

A text was just him keeping her in the loop – so she couldn't say he hadn't. So they didn't lose track of each other. Of the kids. Of their family. Of their identity outside the job. Of that work-life balance that they pretended they had – that she really wished they did have. But more days – weeks – than not, it didn't feel quite that way.

"Like nine-thirty," he said.

"Are you OK?" she put to him.

He shook his head and shrugged, taking a swig out of his beer, which she threaded from his fingers and took her own slow drink. Though, she could more do with a glass of wine. Or a bottle.

Or maybe some Bailey's. It was supposedly Christmas after all. But she wouldn't quite say it felt like that yet. Not as an adult and not as a parent. And that day had been a stark reminder of just how little the holidays – secular or not – meant. They were just another day. And, if anything, it was just an added boiling point to send unstable situations – people – over the edge.

Brian scruffed at his scruff. "Usual bullshit," he rasped. "These ass-hats thinking they're pulling some kind of legal trickery by filing shit just before the bell on Christmas Eve. Got us running in circles trying to get ourselves in front of people or their asses in the box in the last few days before the holidays. Get shit verified now that people are already distracted and out of their office in their Turkey and Sugar Comas. Shit that should've had the opportunity to check up on weeks ago."

"Mmm …," she acknowledged. Busy. But Brian often did better with busy.

But he stared at her. "Gordie had a bit of a meltdown in my office mid-afternoon."

Olivia cocked her head at him.

He rubbed at his overgrown five o'clock shadow that he rarely seemed to shave off his face anymore. Though, she suspected he might in the coming days – but only because they might have company in-and-out over the holidays. His mother gave him more flak about his facial hair than she did. She liked it when he had it … just right. And Brian had learned – like he had with a lot of things – what that just right that she liked was and usually stuck with that tried-and-true thin line they both treaded in their relationship.

"Wife's biopsy didn't go great. They're doing a complete double mastectomy. Soon."

Olivia frowned at that and let her hand return to his bicep. "They were at your office party," she said. "Emmy was playing with their little boy and girl."

"Yea …," he allowed. "The younger two. Their oldest is closer to Ben. Maybe nine."

"Gordon … Vanessa? … They're so young …," she whispered.

"Yeah," Brian muttered, staring at the TV screen. "I think he's like thirty-four, thirty-five. Three little kids at home."

Olivia just shook her head and pulled at her chin a bit as she processed that – what another family was going through. Another sad story.

"Told him to just take the kids' winter break. Spend the holidays at home. Prep whatever they've got to prep for what they've got coming. I'll figure out the paperwork so he doesn't take a pay hit for next week."

Olivia squeezed his arm again and he gave her a look and shrugged some. "He made some noise about leaving us short – shorter - staffed. But, you know … whatever …"

She allowed him another thin smile and leaned in for another light kiss. The kiss was short but they lingered in each other's space. Foreheads touching.

Brian was Brian. There was bad – quirks and insecurities – but he was a good man. He took care of others so much more than himself. For better and for worse.

"I wish I had a boss to tell me to take the week, the holidays," she muttered.

His hand – thumb – stroked a bit against her thigh. "Office was buzzing. Sounds bad."

"It is," she more mouthed than said.

"Mandatory psych debrief?" he asked.

"Yea …," she mouthed again.

"You know Cragen would be sending you home after that …"

Olivia made a little sound. "I was never the one that got sent home – even when I thought I got too emotional in the session."

"Different now," Brian said. "The kids. You're a mom."

She sighed. "It's going to be Amanda that I'm sending home after the shrink makes her ruling …"

Brian shrugged a little. "You're the boss. You're allowed to step back if you need to."

"Right now?" she muttered. "I've still got an invisible target on me after Dodds memo, Bri. I can't be crumpling up in front of the psychiatrist and pulling the Mom Card with my unit. At the holidays."

"Fuck that," he rasped a bit more firmly. She felt his breath huff out against her cheekbones and she gazed at him – foreheads still touching – a little cross-eyed. "It'd be fucking transparent if they pulled that kind of shit. And there's no one in this fucking city more qualified and more experienced to be sitting in that office, behind that desk, than you. Everyone knows that."

She sighed and just let herself gaze at him. Him gaze at her. To try to let herself feel – and believe – his belief in her.

"We're short staffed," she said. "It's the holidays. It's … a high-profile case, Brian."

"Fin's wearing the white shirt now, Liv. He can handle it. Need to learn to delegate. Just like you do on the home front."

"You're easier to boss around," she smiled at him.

She felt him furrow his brow a bit. "Right. Know who wears the pants in this family."

She raised her eyebrow. "Emily or your mom?"

It got a small amused sound out of him. She could see him smile a bit. Emily and Janet were definitely the bossiest of the bunch of them. Though, she knew there was a case to be made that her and Benji were close runners up. Brian … he tried to keep the peace. And to take care of everyone else. It'd meant he'd been walked all over more than once in his lifetime.

"I can't step back," she whispered evenly at him. "This is going to be one that gets a lot of attention. It already is. There's the expectation that we get our end of things wrapped as quickly as possible."

His hand stayed against her thigh and they just sat in quiet for a long moment. She knew he knew how it was. He'd been there. In his job, Brian was there in some way, shape or form on nearly a daily basis. The powers that be breathing down your neck and dictating how they wanted you to do your job, all the while making it harder for you to get it done.

Olivia straightened a little. She brushed at the (receding) hairline at the top of his (expanding) forehead. "Dr. Silverman's office called my phone a couple times today. I called back. But we kept missing each other."

"Yea," Brian acknowledged.

"Did you speak to him? I got an alert that Benji's test results were available in his chart."

"Yea," Brian acknowledged again and it hung there for a beat that felt too long. An exhale came out of his lungs. She more felt it than heard it. "His levels are off. Suggests disease activity. IgA is too low for them to do the immunoglobulin IV next week."

Olivia sighed at that and allowed her own extended – and she was very sure audible – exhale. She rested her head on the back of the couch.

"And that's just it? We don't get his next treatment?" she pressed with some frustration apparent.

Brian's head tilted a bit and he kept eyes with her. "Got the drug shortage line," he said. "Patients most in need are the ones they're treating right now."

"So his IgA is too low but our son isn't sick enough for them to treat?" she vented again.

Brian sighed and stared at her. She wasn't mad at him. She knew he'd be worried and frustrated too. But he was the messenger.

"His body isn't in a place that them even doing the treatment right now is an option, Liv," he reinforced.

"Are they going to do anything about that? Does it mean he's in a flare? Or at risk of one?"

"Maybe," Brian said. "Wants us to get Ben in for a chest xray. Maybe have him into the clinic next week depending on what they see. The req is in his chart. Thought maybe take him over to the hospital tomorrow. Know what the hospital and clinic staffing will be like the next week or so … get it done. Sooner than later."

Olivia sighed and rubbed her eyebrow a bit at that. Brian just watched her.

"You're going to be working tomorrow," he put flatly.

She exhaled again and found his eyes. "Likely," she acknowledged. "In the morning. Early. We have Jack's thing … birthday," she gestured. "Family Christmas outing in the afternoon, evening …"

Brian nodded. "I can take him. Detour before meeting you at the theater."

She just sighed more at that and stared at him. She hated missing his medical appointments. And she hated the idea of Benji having to go over to the hospital – to have that wind him up and wind him – before they tried to do … something as a family. Something for Christmas. In the year – the month, the week – that didn't feel so Christmas-y at all. Especially now.

"We're nowhere near ready for Christmas, Bri …," she muttered, staring off beyond him and into their little back garden. It was dark and the lights of their Christmas tree were reflected against the glass laminating her frown right back at her. "This month just got away from us."

He attempted a little shrug. "We've still got some time."

She exhaled and pulled her eyes back to him. She didn't need to see that sad reflection. "Our Sunday shopping blitz. I don't think that's going to happen now."

"Liv," he stressed at her. "Don't worry about it. We've got enough bases covered. They'll have a Christmas. Sure as hell will still be nicer than any of ours growing up. Even if we dropped the ball a bit this year. Shit happens. We're together. It's fine."

She allowed him a weak smile. He was right. But something about it didn't feel right. Maybe raising traumatized kids when you were a former-traumatized kid turned traumatized adult always made you feel like your children just deserved so much more. You tried to give them so much more. For things to be so much better. It was an impossible pedestal you placed yourself on. Expectations that set you up for guilt and failure. And this year it'd felt like she'd had so many moments where she'd felt that as a mother and parent and woman and cop.

"I hated," she stressed, "missing his pick-up today."

"Cop family," Brian said.

Olivia gave him eyes. "I feel like we've used that line – excuse – with them a few too many times this fall."

"Liv, there's worse lines – or no lines – kids have to hear. They get it. Even when they aren't happy about it."

She cocked her head a bit at that. "Is he mad?"

Brian gave his head a little shake and his face a scrub. "Don't know, babe. Just got to talk to them on the phone. Johnny said they were 'as good as you can expect kids to be when they've just been released from the grips of our so-called public education for an eleven day, ostensibly New York-created commercialized holiday extravaganza.'"

She allowed a small smile at that. Sometimes she wondered how much of Brian's vocabulary had been added to by John – and just how much Munch was adding to her children's vocabulary now. A parting gift …

"Does that mean he doesn't want to light the menorah with them anymore?"

"Better not flake out on that when he's got them off the walls about their first Christmakah," Brian muttered and put the bottle to his lips again.

"Festivus for the rest of us …," Olivia said.

Brian choked a bit on his beer and gave her a smile as he brought it back down. She again took the bottle from him for her own swig.

"I think as long as we – or my mom – don't rain on his parade by selling it as the Jewish Christmas, he'll be OK," he said.

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed as she swallowed the too warm brew that wasn't going to be very good to begin with. Gluten-free beer just wasn't. But it hadn't stopped Brian from having it in the fridge yet. "He hasn't seen us hand out allowance. Wait until they get their gelt. His holiday traditions are going to rank way higher than Christmas."

Brian allowed another small amused sound and took the beer back from her. Finishing off what was little more than their shared backwash at the bottom of the bottle.

"Least it's only like eight crazy nights more I have to listen to …" and he pointed the empty bottleneck at her.

"Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel," she recited in shared singsong that Benji and Emmy had decided to take turns in to the point there'd been arguments about who's turn it was to scream 'dreidel, dreidel, dreidel' at the top of their lungs. And it wasn't even Hanukkah yet.

"I made it out of clay …," Brian muttered back and tipped at the bottle, staring at the bottom to see if he really had finished it off. The message was clear – he was going to keep a few more beers to making it through their Christmas, Hanukkah, Christma-kah, Festivus over the next week or so too.

"Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel …" Olivia allowed in a whisper and just stared at him until she shook her head. "He'll be hurt. Benji. He worked so hard on the mural. He was so proud of his homeroom winning the contest. Winning the party …"

"He's OK, Liv," Brian said again. "Pretty sure he'll have a lot more art projects and wins to show-off in his future. Ones that will be way more impressive than some door decorating contest."

She gave him a weak smile at that attempt and just stared at him. He looked back. Both reading each other – while lost in their own thoughts and days and issues and guilt, she knew.

"It was a blood-bath, Bri," she whispered, giving her head a shake as she stared off beyond him – at their Christmas tree off in the corner. The one that was already so full of family moments and memories. Of them. Their tree that in seven too short years was already overloaded with tacky ornaments picked by their children. And craft projects from school and the library story time and holiday programs they'd taken them to. With random paper cut-outs and chains and strings of popcorn and decorated toilet paper tubes strung up on their tree. Mementos from their 'grandparents' and 'aunts' and 'uncles'. Little photo frames containing their aging children's smiling faces and clay print hands with tiny fingers that were growing bigger every year.

And she felt Brian's hand land on hers on the back of the couch and grip at it. She stared at it for a long moment and gave him a frown at his concerned eyes. But he was there. Not moving.

"The boys' room," she rasped at him – fighting to keep her voice steady and unbroken. "It was all done up as a space theme. The bedding set – the one I wanted to get them for Christmas, that's on back order everywhere – it was on their beds. With them. Just … soaked …"

And his hand gripped at hers – his fingers lacing with hers and squeezing tight and secure. "It's like you tell me when I'm getting lost in my head," he nodded at her gently. "It's not them. Ours are upstairs. Safe."

"I know," she acknowledged. "It's just …"

"I know," he said and held her hand a bit tighter.

Olivia sighed and rubbed firm at the center of her forehead – trying to center herself. And she looked at him. "It's going to be a family annihilator situation," she said. "At the holidays. A judge's family."

"Can you hand it off to homicide?" he asked.

She shook her head. "They're involved. But it's going to be us. There's going to be layers to this. There's … things in that house that … shouldn't be there. Signs of abuse. Our likely perp is going to end up being a vic too."

She felt his gaze. "Judge Hilda?" he asked. She knew it was of the likely source of the abuse – that they both knew showed signs of sexual for SVU to be on the scene.

She allowed a small shrug. But Olivia also knew that Brian would see the little bob of a nod that accompanied. The suspicion that would have to be investigated – but the obvious starting point. The parents – the father, the male relatives – they always were.

"How old?" he asked of their likely killer who she already suspected was going to be driven by victimization. Not that that would help give the remaining family any true peace or justice at the end of any of this. There wouldn't be an end. This would haunt the survivors of the family – of the friends and colleagues close to the family – for the remainder of their days.

"Eighteen," she said flatly. "Just home from college – Yale - for winter break too."

Brian sighed a bit and sat back into the cushioning too, still holding at her hand. "News said two of the kids are in hospital. Him?"

She allowed a little nod.

"Failed suicide or just show?" he asked.

She exhaled. "Not sure yet."

"Gut?"

"Botched murder-suicide," she said.

"Got to talk to him?"

She shook her head and rubbed her eyebrow. "Barely. In surgery and then his grandparents got him lawyered up. For now."

"They know you suspect him?"

"It's a legal family, Brian. They know how all this works. They don't want him talking to us without representation present."

"What about the other survivor?"

"The little girl is in a medically-induced coma. She might not pull through." And they stared at each other. "Her bedroom was all unicorns. And pink. The bedding. The splatter. Some of it was almost hard to tell—"

And her voice cracked more than she wanted it too. And his hand squeezed hers again and she looked at him – fighting to keep the glassing in her eyes from running over into something else.

"They're upstairs," he mouthed at her quietly again. "Safe. Fine."

She nodded and exhaled a long and shaky breath through pursed lips. Her other hand on his upper abdomen to feel it more as she did. He watched her – steadily – as she did.

"Are they asleep?" she asked. Though, she suspected the answer. It was late – pushing close to the wee hours of a new day. If they'd been awake and heard her come in she likely would've heard the patter of little feet creeping around at the top of the stairs waiting to be told they could come down for a late-night cuddle.

"Em was up maybe half-hour ago," Brian said. "Had to go check behind the can for her to make sure there weren't any pee monsters hanging around."

She allowed him a thin smile for that and returned the little squeeze to his hand. He was a good Daddy too. And she prayed they really did have a safe house and home now where the only monsters they ever had to worry about where the make-believe ones that made late-night pees an excuse to be a nuisance for Mom and Dad. But sometimes cases like this – their own past and experiences – made her wonder what horrors might be lurking beneath the surface or following them home.

"I just need to …," she said and gave a little nod at the ceiling above them as she unfolded herself from the couch.

Brian gave her a sad but understanding look. But he held onto her hand as she rose. "Don't be too long," he said. "You'll miss the end of the movie. It's the best part."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "Because it's over?"

He cocked his head at her. "'Cause every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings. 'Cause it's a wonderful life …"

She allowed him a weak smile at that and she leaned back in to take another peak of his lips. Sometimes he surprised her. And a lot of times he just … reminded her … helped her … to stay in this life. As wonderful as it was. And it was.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**This will likely just be a short collection of scenes around the holidays for the family. And some Liv/Lindstrom and maybe Liv/Rollins (or some other colleague) about how she's dealing with things on the home front and work-life/cop-mom balance.**

**Next posted scene will either be Liv upstairs checking on the kids sleeping. Or a scene from the next day of them on their family Christmas outing afternoon/Jack's birthday dinner.**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated and motivating. Thanks for taking the time to read.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

Olivia carefully eased the door to her children's bedroom open. She could tell Brian had already been up – getting Emmy back into bed after her usual evening witching hour. The door was more fully closed – nearing shut – than it was ever left in the first few hours after they tucked their kids in. Partially because the kids insisted on the door being open and the light from the hallway flooding in. Partially because the open door let her and Brian clearly hear any silliness that was going on up there. Then it could usually be managed with putting on the Mom or Dad Voice and barking from veil threat up the stairs.

But any signs of silliness that might've proceeded them drowsing that night had dissipated. Though, they never were too silly with John when he caught bedtime duties on their behalf. If anything, Unkie Munchie was silly enough for all of them (sometimes it seemed without even trying).

Neither of the kids stirred as she stepped into the room and took in their sleeping forms. Staring at them, Olivia finally let herself exhale. Exhale … as much as she could of the day she'd had. Of those visuals that were still in her head. The ones she knew never really left you. The ones with the kids – they never really did.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she watched them. Stepping back against the wall their nightlight was on and leaning against the support just on the periphery of its protective glow. A figure lurking as she took them in.

Some days dealing with the kids – being a mother – just felt like an added layer of exhaustion. Slow and tedious. Demanding and frustrating. And then there were the other days – the other moments – where it all just felt like it was flying by too fast. Their childhoods. And she just wanted to slow it all down. To hold on to the moments. To not miss any of them. When days like today – it felt like she was missing so much. And she was so aware of how fragile life was. How quickly and unexpectedly life – family – could change. Could crumple.

There were lots of nights like this. Maybe more than she wanted to admit. Where she found herself home late and the kids already in bed. And she stood inside their doorframe just watching them sleep. For hours and hours – that felt like minutes.

And she wasn't the only one. Brian had nights – cases – where he was the one who arrived home late and sank down to the floor just inside their door and looked at them. Looked at them until she told him he needed to let his mind rest – process. That he needed to sleep.

And Olivia suspected that that night it'd be him who'd be eventually coming up and saying the same to her. But Olivia couldn't imagine sleep coming for her that night. And being there in the presence of her children, it seemed like the best - the most stabilizing – option after that day. After this case. Knowing what was to come.

But as she stood there Emmy stirred just a little – rolling over and her prized narwhal stuffie tumbling to the ground. Olivia allowed a thin smile at that and found herself leaning over to retrieve the toy.

Brian hated Emily's affinity for stuffed animals. But it was as close as their children had gotten to a pet. Probably about as close as they would ever get. And the only reasonable substitute for their all-creatures-great-and-small little girl. Fictional and very real. Creepy crawly and adorably cute. The one who'd likely grow up to be a biologist or zookeeper or veterinarian. Or who knew what. But for now their little girl's raised bed was a virtual ball pit piled high with the stuffed toys.

Olivia really didn't need to retrieve the narwhal. Emmy likely wasn't going to notice it'd fallen out of her grip. And she could easily wrap her arm around a menagerie of other animals up in her bed. But that wasn't really what placing the toy back next to her daughter was about.

It was about stepping forward and tucking that animal back under her sleeping daughter's arm. About stroking that rat nest of tangled hair away from her forehead. The hair that so clearly must've been washed by her little girl all by herself that night and she hadn't gotten all the shampoo out. And her Uncle Munch – even if he'd maybe known enough to get her to dry it (though Olivia suspected Emmy had taken that on herself too – or at most let her big brother help and it likely resulted in the two of them giggling and having a blow drier hot hair fight more than any sort of hair drying happening), he hadn't known enough to be pulling a brush their her hair to get all the tangles out. And now there'd be a matted mess in the morning that she'd likely get accused of being some sort of sadistic torturer when she tried to comb them out carefully for her daughter and Brian would end up doing it instead … because Daddy's Little Girl. But Olivia would gladly let him take that job anyway. Primping and adjusting her boy's hair was much, much easier than Emily's unruly mane (and in a lot of ways a lot more fun. There were things nice about being a Boy Mom. Mohawks and Faux hawks and crazy bangs and spikes and experimenting with every kind of hair product imaginable to get that 'cool' look of the moment was on the list. She'd take that over trying to brush out tangles in the hair of a thrashing ang gnashing little girl almost any day … though on the rare occasion that Emmy let her put in braids or pigtails and chalked 'unicorn' streaks and sparkles … she'd take that too). It was about leaning in and feeling her little girl's warm (and less than sweet at that time of night) breathing against her own cheek as she placed a light kiss on Emmy's cheek.

But her movement into the space near the bed must've startled Benji and he jerked awake in lower bed of the staggered, stacked corner bunks. There hadn't been any argument between the kids about who'd get the upper and lower bunk. Though, anyone she'd shown the kids' redone shared room to seemed to always jib her about the smack down that must've happened for Emily to end up in the top bunk. Them wondering how that happened.

But it'd been a given. Emily always had her head in the clouds. Off her fantasy world of narwhals and unicorns and mermaids and bugs and birds and marine life. Climbing in trees and dangling from monkey bars and do everything she could to keep their family hopping. And Benji – her Little Fox – was still happy in his own little den. A confined, quiet, safe space – close to his family but slightly hidden from view. Privacy while within plain sight.

But he must've felt some kind of invasion – unexpected. Startled from a deep sleep. And Olivia could almost feel his little heart pounding as he bolted upright in the bed and looked wildly around as his eyes adjusted to the dim light and tried to find the intruder. When her little boy had too real of experiences about just what an intruder was.

"Shh," she hushed, being sure to move out of the shadows by Emmy's headboard and back into the light of the nightlight. "It's just me, Benj. It's Mommy."

She felt him exhale as her hand came to his shoulder. His wide eyes narrowing a bit. Her little boy – growing boy – looking at her still in so much the way he did as that little creature who ended up on her doorstep. Like she still had all this power to comfort him and protect him and fix all his problems and make it all better. Even though she knew so much had happened in his life already that had shown him that she couldn't do all that all – or even any – of the time. But she tried. She tried as much as she could. Because she knew that there were only a few more years left – if even that – that she might hold that super hero status. She knew already there were days he was angry and frustrated and hurt and sad by her. By her schedule and her job. By her having to be his mom – and not save him from all his mistakes. To let him learn and fail. But how much she still wished she could take so much of his pain away. To make things right. And how much she longed for that even more when he looked at her with those eyes – on nights like that after days like she'd just had.

"Is it morning?" he muttered sleepily.

"No, Little Fox," she said, cupping his cheek too. "It's the middle of the night."

She squinted at him on her own through the dim light. He was clammy. And her hand move back to test the material of his sleep shirt. It was damp too.

"Ohh …," Benji muttered again with a touch of confusion. "You're home?"

"Yeah," she allowed. "I wanted to come home and see you and Ducky."

Benji made a little sound and moved to settle back into the mattress. But she halted him and tugged gently at the bottom of his shirt.

"You're all sweaty, sweets," she said. "Let's change this."

He mumbled something she couldn't understand. But at least lifted his arms to pull to let her pull off the damp material. But he then flopped back into the bed.

She let out a little noise that he must've registered as some annoyance.

"Dad doesn't sleep with a shirt," he mumbled into his pillow.

Olivia allowed a little shrug. "Dad sleeps in a tank top a lot, Benj," she said, as she backed to the dresser behind her.

Her son didn't need to know that Brian usually kept his chest covered because unless they were well into the thick of things – he preferred her not to touch or trace at his patchwork of scars. That even in the heat of the moment – a misplaced touch or lips or tongue – could pull him out of it if his head wasn't in the right place. To her children – who had gotten to cling to their Daddy as they learned to swim at the Y – his scars were a series of stories to hear again and again. More than that the way their Daddy told it it was a foundation of a love story of their family. Messy and scarred – just like him. But completely 'normal' and commonplace.

"I'll do that …," Benji said.

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed as she opened the drawer and blindly retrieved the top of some set of pajamas. She didn't really care if it matched or what was on it. More nights than not her kids just mismatched whatever was in their drawers anyway to crawl into bed. And most nights it wasn't a battle worth having. "I'll keep that in mind the next time we have to get you some new PJs," she said.

But she went back over to him, grabbing the ear thermometer that had been left – nearly permanently on the top of the dresser, as she did.

She bunched up the material and held it out at him. He gazed at her and the offered shirt.

"I could wear Dad's," Benji said.

She allowed him a little smile. "Next time," she said. "You can ask him in the morning."

"He worked lately too," Benji muttered as he sat up and let her dress him almost like a rag doll. He was somewhere between sleep and wake and Olivia almost doubted he'd even remember this conversation come morning.

"I know," she said as she adjusted the shirt down his torso. "He's home now too."

Benji made a little sound and settled back into the bed, just staring up at her. And Olivia placed the thermometer into his ear as he did his gazing. He said nothing and neither did she. Though she offered him a little smile and stroked at his cheek as she waited for the device to beep.

She also touched at the sheets around him. They felt a little damp from her boy's night sweat too but not soaked through. And he seemed too drowsy – and she was too tired – to bother with rousing him more to change the bed. She'd do it in the morning when the kids were up. If they were up before she had to go back into the bullpen again.

Olivia gazed at the temperature as the thermometer displayed its reading. It wasn't up to what was defined as a true fever but it was raised from her child's 'normal' – whatever that was anymore. And she carefully clocked that away with the night sweats and the soaked pajamas and the abnormal readings on his latest labs and his cancelled immunoglobin treatment.

And she exhaled a quiet sigh as she set the device over on the nightstand.

"Was it bad?" Benji asked weakly.

But she gave him a weak smile and shook her head. "No fever," she answered as honestly as she could.

His deep wells that she'd so fallen in love with stuck on her. There were times that it felt like her small children were more experts at reading her – and her emotions and truths – better than anyone else in her life.

"I FaceTimed you …" Benji almost whispered at her.

Olivia fought the frown that pulled at her mouth and reached out to touch his cheek. "I know, Little Fox," she said. "I wasn't in a place I could video conference."

"A crime scene …?" he asked near wordlessly.

"Yeah," she acknowledged quietly. "But I was so glad you sent me the pictures of your mural, Benj. It's beautiful. I know how much work you and your class put into it. I'm really proud of you."

He stared at her. "It's gonna be taken down over break," he said. "So you won't get to see it. For real."

And the frown did come out at that and she stroked his cheek. "I know," she said. "That makes me sad too. I'm sorry."

He just stared at her and she nudged at the edge of the mattress just a bit. "Move over," she mouthed at him.

The stare stuck on her for a long beat. But then he did – making space and she carefully lay herself down next to him. It felt so good to lay flat like that. It felt even better when her little boy cuddled up against her and rested his cheek somewhere between her shoulder and breast. Curled against her side in a way that she also knew was becoming time-limited down. But in a way that still pushed those buttons that reminded her for those early months – at first year with her eldest child. And Olivia felt like, in that moment, she could just shut her eyes. And if she did – despite the kind of day it'd been, despite the things she'd seen that would stay with her for … a long time to come – she might just fall asleep. There. With her children – present and safe and sound.

But then Benji mumbled into her shoulder. "You smell, Mom."

And she allowed a quiet amused noise as her heavy eyes found their way back open and she held at him – his nose so clearly buried a little too close to her armpit, which she'd admit probably didn't smell like the rose pedal deodorant she'd put on that morning anymore. Not after that day.

"Sorry, Benj," she smiled a little against the crown of his head. "I haven't hopped in the shower yet. I wanted to look in on you and Ducky first. Make sure I got to see you."

"It's like chemical-y or something," Benji mumbled.

"Mmm …," she hummed against his head.

"Where Crime Scene people – Forensics – there?" he asked.

She allowed another quiet sound of acknowledgement against his head. "They were," she said. "But I was at the hospital for a big part of the day too. I think I smell more like hospital than crime scene."

She could hear – and feel – her child taking a sniff at her. It almost made her want to laugh. But in another way it made her sad – that her child could recognize either of those smells. Had any sense of what an active crime scene or a busy hospital might smell like. She wasn't sure any eleven year old truly should.

"It means something really bad happened?" Benji gazed at her again. "When you're so late and smell like hospital and crime scene? When you go to a crime scene? When you're the boss?"

She stroked at his hair a bit and gave him a light frown. "Well, it means that it was important that extra eyes and hands were on the scene to help, Benj. And with me being the boss, sometimes it means I need to make sure everyone is doing their job the best they can and sometimes it means since I've done my job so long I might see something or think of something that maybe other people might not."

"So you were doing detective work today?" he asked.

She stroked at his soft, short hair again. "A little today," she said. "But mostly – just making sure everyone was doing their job by the book and that a family who needs help gets as much help as we can give them now."

He stared at her and she gave him a weak smile and stroked at his hair slowly and lightly – hoping she might lull him back to sleep and she might be able to lull herself there too.

"A family got hurt?" he asked.

She allowed a little nod. "They did …"

"That sucks …," he said. "It's basically Christmas. So it likely sucks more."

She pressed her lips against the top of his head. "Yeah," she agreed. "Christmas is going to be very challenging for that family now."

He was quiet for a long beat. And Olivia found herself trying to keep her mind steady – and there with her family – not back in that brownstone and those children's bedrooms.

"Emmy wanted to watch Home Alone tonight 'cuz last year we watched it on the last day of school but I made her wait 'cuz I know you like that one too. Even though you like the second one in New York better," he said.

She smiled a little against his crown. "It's kind of fun that it's in our city," she said.

"But the first one's better. But Emmy likes the second one too 'cuz of the pigeon lady. And 'cuz we went to see the orchestra there too. Like in the movie. But I told her we should wait."

"Mmm …," she smiled a little more. "Thank you, Little Fox."

He made a small sound like he was proud of that praise.

"What movie did you pick instead?"

"Arthur Christmas," Benji muttered. "'Cuz Uncle John was tellin' Ducky that a lot of Christmas stuff doesn't make scientific sense. And that she's a woman of science. And so Emmy said that that movie explains it all with science. And technology. And makes it make sense."

She smiled some more. "Did that help Uncle Munch?"

Benji shrugged. "He at least kinda told her it cleared things up."

Olivia made an amused sound.

"But he wouldn't say he was a believer even though Ducky tried to get him to. He said Jews aren't believers in the 'Patron Saint of Coca Cola'. I dunno what that means. But he said the closest he'd believe was that Kris Kringle is a bit of a mench. Not like I know what that means neither. He's so weird, Mom …."

Olivia's ongoing smile against her little man's head grew and grew until she allowed it to turn into another quiet amused laugh.

"A lot of things Uncle Munch says can be hard to understand," she mouthed gently. "You've got to remember to just got to take what he say a grain of salt, Benj."

His eyes gazed at her. "Like I know what that even means too …"

She smiled at him. "That Uncle Munch has the best intentions," she nodded at him. "And he loves you and Emmy and Daddy and I a whole, whole lot."

He rolled his pointy cheekbone against her – digging into the flesh near the top of her breast. Her little boy's features were becoming a bit too defined. He was becoming a bit too gaunt. The medications seemed to cause more water retention than weight gain. And that puffy look to him came and went depending on where they were in the pulse of drugs they were putting into his system to beat down the inflammation that was his body attacking his own body. But it was more the nausea that had caused the weight loss – and the constant sore throats and tender swollen glands and lymph nodes in their little boy's body. Popsicles and jello and soups and smoothies. It was nearly all the could reliably get into her son. Anything else beyond that diet required begging, threats and bribes. She had fully intended to spend a stupid-silly amount of money on some 'healthy' treats for over the holidays in an effort to get Benji to eat a bit more. But now she wasn't sure if – or when – she'd fit in the shopping trips.

She should've just ordered everything online – weeks ago. Join the twenty-first century – twenty years into it. But she still often didn't know what she was really buying when she ordered things online. She'd had more than one occasion where what she ended up getting in the mail was significantly smaller or flimsier or a completely different color than its photo. Not what she imagined at all. So as much as she did initial looking and pricing online, she still usually preferred to go and see what she was actually buying and purchase it in store. But that was biting her in the ass this year for about the first time since her first Christmas as a Mom. She was usually much more prepared than this. But a kid in Grade One and a kid in Grade Six and them at two different schools nowhere near each other, combined with Benji's health issues and appointments and divergent interests and extra-circular activities in the kids layered onto her and Brian's jobs – and responsibilities there – and both of them working under-staffed teams that fall. It was just a long way of saying things had fallen to the wayside in ensuring they were ready for Christmas morning. But Brian was right – even their under-organized chaos would still produce a day that the kids were more spoiled than her or him could've ever imagined when they were young.

"Mom, is it true that Uncle Munch calls Dad Yippie Skippy 'cuz he brought peanut butter sandwiches to work like every day like he was still in grade school and got super excited about it every lunch time?"

An unintentional laugh bubbled out of Olivia at that. It was too loud – and Emmy stirred again above them. She slapped a hand over her mouth as her Little Fox squinted at her. She shifted her hand a bit and tapped her forefinger in a 'shh' motion instead at her little boy.

She always knew at some point the kids would ask where that nickname had come from. Though, she'd suspected it would be more Emily who'd pulled the 'why, why, why' routine at this point. The only thing she knew was she definitely didn't want to be the one answering that question. Brian – and John – had dug their own hole there.

"Ah … well, you know how much Daddy likes his peanut butter …," Olivia whispered. There was some kind of truth in there somewhere.

Benji cocked his head a bit at her. He looked so much like his Dad when he did that. She found it … funny, interesting … to see the little quirks and idiosyncrasies their children had picked up from them over the years. Raising them was enough for parts of them to be staring them right in their faces so often. Genetics only counted for so much.

"But Dad's favorite's is nut butter banana … or sometimes honey," he added. "And Uncle Munch says he calls us Fluffer Nutters since Dad is Yippie Skippy. But Fluffer Nutters sound really gross. And I've never seen Dad eat that stuff. Dad only eats marshmallow if it's charred. He says that's the only way it tastes right. S'mores."

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed. She wasn't sure what to say to that. Though, it did occur to her if Benji and Emily were their biological children that was quite the word picture Munch had painted for their offspring with the marshmallow Fluff analogy. She might never look at the stuff the same way again. "Well, Gramma's Church Window bars have peanut butter in them. Right?"

"Yea …," Benji acknowledge.

"And they have marshmallows in them," Olivia added.

"Yea," Benji agreed but there was a small edge there. "But they're the colored ones."

"Ah …," Olivia said and rubbed at her eyebrow with her free hand. She smiled a bit. "Well, I'm still pretty sure they taste like marshmallows."

"No they don't," Benji said. "They're better."

"OK," Olivia said with a little shake of her head. "But I think we can agree that there are some instances where peanut butter and marshmallow is a good combination. And I'm pretty sure I've seen your Dad nearly eat a whole tray of Gramma's bars all by himself."

"'Cuz she makes them special for him 'cuz they were hi favorite when he was a kid at Christmas," Benji said.

She pressed her lips into his short hair again and held him tight. "She does," she agreed. "And they were – and are."

They were quiet for a bit. Olivia let her body and ears become more aware of Benji's breathing. Hearing and feeling it. Searching for any catch or crackle or wheeze that might've added to the poor numbers on his latest blood draw, caused that spike in temperature and sweat soaked pajamas, or have prompted Benji's doctor to order yet another chest xray, just in case.

She could hear Emmy's breathing too across them. Soft with the quietest little whistle through her nose as she slept. But she could hear the hint of heaviness in Emmy's chest. The starts of a cold? It wouldn't surprise her with all the rain and damp they were having the past few weeks. Not that that stopped her kids from wanting to play outside. From walking to school. From whipping their scooters up and down their quiet tree-lined street on the weekends. From still begging to go out to the parks and playgrounds – and jumping in the puddles and digging in the sand and seeing who could create the biggest wake spraying everyone nearby as they charged through them at full-speed with their bikes.

"Gramma came over to make dinner 'cuz Uncle John says we're impossible to feed," Benji mumbled against her.

"Mmm," she acknowledged quietly. "He's still just learning, Benj. He probably just didn't want to make a mistake that might make you sick for your school break."

Benji made a little sound at that. Olivia heard it – felt it. She knew what it meant. That her child already felt sick.

"What'd Gramma make everyone for dinner?" she tried.

"Red pepper and sweet potato soup," Benji said. "It kinda tasted like tomato soup but it didn't."

"It sounds pretty good to me, Little Fox," Olivia said. It definitely sounded a lot better than the endless cups of cold, stale coffee that had accompanied her day. But she hadn't felt much like eating. And, really, if she had been home – as much as the ingredients sounded tasty, Olivia wasn't sure she would've been able to stomach the color and texture of the soup after the kind of crime scene she'd been on.

"She made us grilled cheese too," Benji muttered. "But she complained about how goat cheese melts and how gluten free bread crumbles and sticks to the pan. And it definitely wasn't anything like your grilled cheese, Mom. Emmy's had a giant hole in it 'cuz the bread stuck. And then she ate through it. It was kinda gross."

Olivia smiled gently at that. Their daughter lacked in table manners. She wasn't a little lady at all. Actually, she really was a perfect mix of her and Brian in so many ways that sometimes Olivia almost wondered if the miscarriage had been a dream. That some how they'd still gotten their daughter. But they had. They'd very clearly – at times infuriatingly – gotten the child that was meant for them.

"The pizza at the pizza party for winning the door decorating contest was pretty gross too," Benji mumbled.

"Yea?" she mouthed. "That's too bad."

"I think it was like frozen pizza, Mom," Benji lamented at bit. "And basically, nearly everybody else got to have takeout. From Joe and Sal's, Mom," and the whine there was apparent. "And then we just got ick in a box," and that made her smile. Benji sometimes had a way with words. Her or Brian there? Or a bit of both? "It tasted weird. Like really gross, weird."

"Mmm …," she frowned a little. "You likely just aren't used to what that kind of pizza tastes like."

"Super gross, weird," Benji said. "Like fungus."

"Like mushrooms and soy?" Olivia suggested.

"Like ass," Benji said.

"Hey …," she mouthed more firmly against his forehead, moving both their head so she was looking into his eyes. "Santa Claus is coming to town," she warned. "You don't want to risk you gift from the North Pole along with your allowance this week, Benjamin."

It got a brief glare from him but it really just flickered across his eyes and disappeared. He was too tired – or maybe not feeling well enough – to contend with the existence of Santa Claus or to get into an argument with her about which swears and behaviors resulted in a hit to his allowance take-home in any given week.

"Is it almost mornin'," Benji asked quietly.

"No, Benj," she said. "You should try to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you." But she also wasn't. Because this was also just what she needed right now.

"But maybe if I get up now me and Dad can go to daybreak shinny?" he suggested. "We could bring home breakfast."

Olivia rested her temple against his forehead again and the stared at each other cross-eyed on a slanted angle.

"You and Daddy and Emily are going to have a quiet morning," Olivia nodded at him. "Because we're going to the Christmas show and out for dinner for Jack's birthday. Remember?"

She could tell that took a second to register. He was chatty but not entirely awake.

"What about you?" he asked.

Olivia stroked at his head again with that. "I just came home to see you guys and to sleep for a couple hours, Benj. I'm going to have to go back into work soon."

"So you aren't coming?" he sputtered.

She found his eyes. "I am. But I need to go and get a few more things done in the morning. Then I'm going to meet you and Dad and Ducky at the theater."

Again she could see his eyes processing that. "Which theater?" he asked.

She gave him a thin smile and ran her hand down the hair on the back of his head. "It's a surprise."

"Not the French show," Benji pressed.

She sighed and tilted her head a bit at him – letting it settle into the pillow. The angle made her eyes beg to close again. Sleep might come if she just gave it a chance.

"Benji," she said a bit more firmly. "Cirque du Soleil is not a French show."

"Sir du Sol-eh is French," he countered.

"Benjamin," she sighed at him. "It's a circus. It's acrobatics and stunts. Like parkor and ninja school. I don't think there's any talking at all in their performances."

"I don't like French things," he said.

She pressed her thumb gently into his temple until his eye line matched up with hers again. "Benji, Emily could be very, very jealous about you getting to go to Math and Science school and getting to do all kinds of extra experiments and field trips. But green doesn't look good on anyone in this family."

"Yes it does," Benji countered. "Dad's Irish and so is Cap'n. And you tell me all the time I look nice in green when you pick my clothes."

Olivia exhaled a bit at that. "You know what I mean, Little Fox. Green with envy. You do not need to be jealous about your sister getting to do the extra French classes at school."

"I didn't get to do the extra French classes," he said.

And she found his eyes. "And maybe Emily won't get to go to MS-Squared for middle school. You both are on your own paths, Benji. With your own strengths. It is not a competition."

He made a little harrumph noise. "I still don't want to go to the French circus."

Olivia rolled her eyes a bit. "Well, it was your Dad's turn to pick our Christmas outing. So you can take that up with him in the morning."

He gave her some more of that squint eye – that had matured and deepened with age. "And then Peedg gotta pick a place that I can't even eat anymore."

Her thumb stayed on his temple and she kept in his sightline. She could see he was just a tire, sulky, frustrated little boy. An attempt at a tween tantrum that he clearly didn't have the energy for. She could see through it – and what she saw was a little boy who wanted his mother's attention and affection. He didn't want her to go back into work. He wanted her to stay and help him to feel better than he was – in those night sweat sheets and temperature spike of a low-grade fever and a rattling, tight chest. But as much as she could be the adult – the parent – and monitor all those things for him, she didn't have the magic wand to fix the root cause of any of it. And that frustrated, tired and saddened her too.

"Did you get to pick your birthday dinner?" she nodded at him.

"Yes …"

"And does Emmy and Daddy and I get to pick ours?"

"Yes …," Benji allowed with the annoyed whine hovering.

"So then just like all of us – Jack gets to pick what he wants for his birthday dinner. And just like we all know how Daddy feels about peanut butter, Benj, I think we can agree that spaghetti and meatballs are your uncle's most favorite food ever."

Benji sighed and his eyes rolled away to gaze into the material of the pillowcase rather than her. "And Ducky's likely gonna want that too."

"And that's fine," Olivia said. "Because I called the restaurant and there's lots of options without gluten or dairy. So you, Daddy and I will pick a couple things to share."

Another little noise came out of him and his eyes snuck a look at her. "Is Renee comin'?"

Olivia tilted her head a bit at him and gave him a small frown. "You know the answer to that, Benjamin."

He sighed at her and again the whites of his eyes appeared as he tried not to look at her.

Olivia stroked her thumb down his cheek. "And so are Captain Cragen and Nana Eileen. Special people in Jack's life that he'd like to celebrate his birthday with."

Benji sighed so hard his nostrils flared a bit. "Promise you'll be there, Mom."

Olivia touched at his chin and made sure they were really looking at each other. "I will be there, Benji." He gave her a weak little attempt at a smile. "You promise me that you're going to be the big boy – be the bigger man, Benjamin – in this family, and be polite and welcoming to your uncle and Renee. Tomorrow and over Christmas." Benji just looked at her – weakly, a little teary with a icy glass on his eyes. "Better or worse, Jack's still our family, Benji. And Renee is really, really trying with all of us and she's someone pretty special to Jack right now."

"I'll try …," he whispered.

"Thank you," Olivia pressed a kiss against his forehead but then tipped his chin to find his eyes again. "But I'd appreciate if you just 'do', Benj. There is no try …"

He smiled a little at her and played with the creases of bunched fabric on the sleeve of her shirt. "The new Star Wars movie is out this weekend. The last one …"

"Oh, I doubt it's the last one," she mouthed at him and gave him a little smile.

"Maybe we can go over holiday?" he gave her a pleading look.

But Olivia nodded. "Maybe we can," she agreed.

"Sunday?" he asked eagerly. "Or will you be working then too?"

Olivia sighed a little. "I don't know yet, Benj. But I know Dad and I both made sure to book one day off for the break. So we're going to fit some family time in. That I can promise."

"At the hospital …," Benji grumbled a little dejectedly.

"Actually, Daddy talked to your doctor today, Little Fox," she whispered into his crown and rubbed at his back. "We aren't going to be doing your immunoglobin treatment this month. So, you're going to have your whole break without worrying about the IV making you feel yucky for a few days of it. And Dad and I, we'll both just keep those days booked off work. So now we'll be able to do something a lot more fun than being stuck in the hospital all day."

Benji shifted and gazed at her. She squeezed his shoulder. "Good news, right?" she tried.

He shrugged and buried his cheek back against her. "I guess …," he whispered off into the darkness.

Olivia held at his shoulder and kissed his crown. She knew that he knew that even though they'd focus on the positives of that call – it wasn't good news

"Close your eyes," she whispered against his head. "I can tell, you're so, so tired, Benj. Me too. Let's try to sleep."

And she could feel him scrunch his eyes shut so tight – like he was willing the world and life and everything out of himself. Like that might be enough to beat back the lupus.

And Olivia felt herself do the same. Squeeze her eyes shut. Hard. And hope and pray they were shut tight enough that she wouldn't see her day painted on back of her eyelids or carved into her mind's eye. That instead she'd just see the right there – the right now – surrounded by her children. Holding onto them like the anchors she so desperately needed – still – on days … cases … like this.

**AUTHOR NOTE**

**Please review, comment and provide feedback. Thank you for reading.**

**Next chapter will likely be Liv/Rollins.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

Olivia sighed as she scanned the preliminary report from the Medical Examiner's Office. As much as she'd emphasized that she wanted the initial reportable findings on her desk by morning, this rushed overnight details were already giving her a headache. There was gun powder residue and defensive marks on the hands of both the judge and his teen-aged son. It was casting another light around the possibilities of what happened. Who killed who. The why. Who was the suicide. And just raising so many more questions too. It was turning into a bigger mess for them to untangle – and it would likely be one the city, and the police and legal community within it, would take a long time to get over.

She pressed her hand into her temple as she read and tried to regroup her thoughts and plans on how she was going to approach the rest of the case. She worked at conceptualizing how to assign and manage her detectives for the rest of the day and onward. Just how she was going to staff this case through the holiday period. SVU had where they'd originally been scheduled as on-call. That should've meant that everyone – with the exception of Kat – got at least some time with their loved ones.

But now that on-call was likely going to span from now right through until they made some arrests and charges were brought down. They'd have to see how the day – weekend – went. It'd like reveal some more on just how this was going to play out and how she'd need to manage staffing. At least there were still a few days until Christmas. Maybe they'd be able to mop this up enough that her people could at least get away with being attached to their phones – on-call at friends' and family's parties and gathering.

Olivia could tell they were all at the point they needed a small break and some small distraction from the job. Time with their lives outside this bullpen. She was hoping she was going to be able to manage that for everyone for at least twenty-four to thirty-six hours. But she was starting to think it'd be more like she'd just be sending everyone how for maybe four-hour holiday visits and otherwise they'd be on-deck.

She knew that was going to smart for her and Rollins and even Fin with his little grandson. There's time and memories you just never got back. And it was even harder when that lost time and memory was being replaced by these kinds of images that you just couldn't get out of your head – ever – when what should be there were the smiles and laughter and joy of your own little ones at home.

"So I'm just swinging by to drop this paperwork off before heading back up to the hospital," Amanda's voice said.

Olivia hadn't even heard – or noticed – her come into the squad room. She'd been a little absorbed in all the paperwork – forms and reports – her already had on her desk to sort through. The growing lists of phone calls she had to make – on a Saturday to people she knew would be attached to their phones waiting for updates and who were likely to be calling her if she hadn't checked in with them before about 9:01. And then there was the flurry of emails she still had to respond to and deal with accordingly.

"The wifi seems a little spotty in the hospital," Amanda added. "And you know how Fin is with using the tablet as a 'computer' and signing into our systems through VPN anyways," she muttered. "So keeping in old school for you."

Olivia stared at the file folder that got placed on the edge of her desk. She managed to keep the sign going inward. But before she could say anything Amanda had spotted the large Macy's shopping bag taking up one of the chairs in front of her desk.

"Please tell me that's an early Christmas present for the squad room," Amanda said almost begging.

Olivia allowed her a small smile at the small, single serve, on sale Keurig that definitely wasn't sized to satisfy a cop shop.

"Ah, no," Olivia said. "Sorry."

Amanda gave an unsurprised, resigned nod. "Just trying to ensure you have a decent cup of coffee available on Christmas morning?"

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow at that and shrugged. "I acknowledge that having been a cop my entire adult life and drank the coffee out there," she said with a gesture of her hand off at their very used and abused coffee maker across the bullpen, "for almost twenty-three years, my standards around coffee are likely pretty low. But, my taste buds seem to think Brian's more than proficient at brewing coffee that's far fancier than anything I'd attempt. And he always seems to manage to have it on the ready before the kids are wanting to see if Santa's visited."

Amanda tilted her head. "Really?" There was a tease to it – but also some surprise.

Olivia shrugged. "And he also makes breakfast," she added.

"On Christmas morning?" Amanda teased.

Olivia tilted her head. "Actually, pretty much every Saturday morning."

"Brian Cassidy makes breakfast," Amanda in-toned somewhat amused.

But Olivia only shrugged again. She wasn't going to take the bait in defending the qualities in Brian that Amanda seemed to think were lacking. They still had this back-and-forth … game … jealousy … even if Amanda had mended some fences with her, and with Brian. At least for the sake of their working relationship – if not their personal one. Olivia knew that was still … a little strained. Maybe more than a little.

And getting into it about Brian making the family breakfast on the weekends. Or Brian always having the coffee on the go and a cup handed to her on the days he was up and on the go and downstairs before her – which really was most days. Olivia knew she was lucky that way. And she'd come to understand that those small gestures were part of Brian's love language for her – for their family. She wasn't going to mock them or downplay their importance. It made a difference. Brian might not be a barista or a master chef – but it was one less thing for her to do. He knew how she liked her coffee. He knew what her favorite weekend brunches were. He knew what breakfast creations got the kids excited. It was a gesture that kept their family together.

So Olivia shifted her gesture to the Keurig. "And this is what happens when he's scrambling eggs at 4:30 a.m. and asks, 'So where'd Jack's birthday presents get put? You want me to bring them to dinner tonight?' And the stellar parent I am right now, realizes that we don't even have a card for Jack. From us or the kids."

"Isn't Jack like twenty-five now?" Amanda said.

"Twenty-six. On Monday," Olivia said and gestured at the other chair that wasn't occupied by the coffeemaker.

"Twenty-six I was lucky if I even got a phone call from either of my parents on my birthday," Amanda provided as she sat down. "And twenty-six, probably about the only thing I would've wanted or appreciated was a bit of cash."

Olivia allowed an amused noise at that and sat back from the files for a moment. She needed a break from them any way – and maybe she needed a bit of a build up to the conversation she needed to have with Amanda. She knew it wasn't going to go well.

"If I gave Jack money in a card, I'm relatively certain that it'd still get spent on Chipotle's," she said. Amanda made an amused noise too. "Or maybe more tattoos."

Amanda raised both her eyebrows with some real surprise. "Really?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Really," she said and flipped the file in front of her shut. She didn't want to risk Amanda seeing the new information about the case. It'd make her even madder and more resistant to what she was going to have to say.

"Weren't you taking him out to some show for his birthday?" Amanda said. "Or this case derail that?"

"That's more of a family Christmas tradition that we just usually line up with Jack's birthday," Olivia muttered. "I'm still planning to be there, assuming everything's as on track as it can be at about 1:30 this afternoon and can manage to stay that way for about two and a half hours."

Amanda allowed a thin smile. They both knew that might be asking a little much. But Olivia would get Fin to run point while she was in the theater and the curtain was up. Calls would be rerouted to him unless it was a real 9-1-1. But it was hard to imagine what could suddenly go worse with this case. The initial ME report seemed to suggest that they were now moving into a waiting game of getting witness testimony from the two survivors and then collecting the evidence in the house to try to substantiate their story. Then it'd be up to the District Attorney's Office and the Police Commissioner and the Mayor's Office and maybe even the Governor to decide just how – and how publicly – they were going to bring down one of their own. One of their own who'd been masquerading as a good guy. A complete abuse of power – as a public servant, as a judge, as a father. It was stomach turning and gut wrenching.

"It's the Cirque Christmas show you're seeing?" Amanda asked. "It just got completely lambasted in TimeOut. Apparently there's some clown scene – which really would be creepy enough for most people – where he's playing some cat in a litter box and it goes on for about five minutes. At what $80, $120 a pop tickets?"

"Ah," Olivia raised her eyebrow. "Then I guess it's a good thing we're going to The Illusionists 'Magic of the Holidays' show."

Amanda made a bit of a face. "A magic show? That doesn't sound very Christmas-y. For a Christmas outing."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Brian picked it."

"Really?" Amanda said. "After Gary the Molester?"

"Mmm …," Olivia let out and looked down at her desk and the paperwork for a long moment. "Triggers and trauma are different for everyone. So for Brian, we can't go to a baseball game as a family because of Coach Gary … but Gary the Magician isn't part of his narrative and a magic show … should hopefully be … fine. Otherwise … we might be in for an interesting afternoon."

"Ah …," Amanda said.

Olivia shrugged and looked up. "So I should be there. Brian's come to my picks every other year. And he felt it was his turn to chose because apparently it's been rather torturous for him to sit through The Rockettes, The Nutcracker and the New York Philharmonic's holiday pops arrangement."

"And you're seeing … a magic show …," Amanda looked at her with a whole lot of amusement again.

And Olivia just shrugged. "I've already told him my tradeoff for this being our Christmas outing is that the tickets to Hugh Jackman in The Music Man are going on his credit card without complaint."

"Hugh Jackman?" Amanda raised her eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Olivia looked her directly in the eye. "Being able to look at Hugh Jackman playing Wolverine has been the only way I've survived nearly seven years of super hero movies. It's time to see him in another role."

Amanda made amused sound. "Good thing. I heard he's quit the X-Men movies."

"So I've been told," Olivia muttered and stared at the coffee-maker again. "Maybe if Brian gets the kids out to pick something for Jack this morning - if it's not a videogame or action figure, we can masquerade it as from all of us and I'll save that for under the Christmas tree or as a housewarming gift."

She sighed and stared at the bag. It might've been the smallest and cheapest Keurig in stock but she still wasn't sure she wanted to have to drag it to the theater and then to dinner that evening. Not in a gift bag that's bottom was liable to fall out in the process.

"Housewarming gift?" Amanda queried.

"Oh," Olivia said and found her eyes. "His girlfriend has moved in with him. They're looking for a bigger place."

Amanda stared at her in some more shock. "Is he still with Renee?"

"He's still with Renee," Olivia said flatly.

"Wow, that's a big step," Amanda said.

Olivia shrugged a bit. "It is," she agreed. "Right now, I think it's more there was roommate drama that Renee didn't feel like dealing with."

"Right," Amanda said. "So boyfriend drama is always the better option."

Olivia sighed. "It's moving a little fast for my liking too." But again she shrugged. "I think I've at least convinced them that they should just stay put and see how well they put up with each other and how his new job and the commute goes before they get locked into a lease. But Jack regularly makes it clear to me that I'm only his 'fake mom on paper' and apparently completely out of touch with how his generation functions, while simultaneously making me dread Benji and Emmy hitting their teenage years and realizing that I will almost be at mandatory and a senior citizen by the time Emily is graduating high school."

Amanda pointed at the coffeemaker again. "This sounds like a pretty loaded birthday present. I can take it off your hands if you want."

Olivia smiled a little at that. "It's OK. If Jack pisses me off enough between now and Monday, I can always just put it under the tree for Renee instead."

Amanda shrugged a bit at that still looking at the top panel of the Keurig with maybe a bit too much envy. "There is something to be said about having a man capable of making you a decent cup of coffee."

"Well, I don't know that a Keurig makes a barista," Olivia said. "But it will at least mean there's tools in the apartment that might save Renee from drinking the sludge that Jack calls coffee."

Amanda made a quiet sound of amusement. "Where exactly do you but a Keurig at 4:30 a.m.?" she muttered. "Amazon Prime delivering that early?"

Olivia smiled a bit and pointed at the bag. "Macy's," she said.

"At 4:30 a.m.?" Amanda nodded at her.

"Opened this morning at 6 a.m. and staying that way right through until 6 p.m. Christmas Eve."

"Mmm," Amanda considered that. "That's good to know. Jesse really wants this Furreal Panda bear. They're these … animatronics, moving, robot stuffed animals. Really creepy – and entirely overpriced. But completely sold out and back ordered on every site I can think of."

"Well, then, Amanda," Olivia said, reaching to take the 'old school' file of forms that her detective had put on the edge of her desk. "Maybe you want to try going 'old school' with your Christmas shopping and checking out these brick and mortar buildings called stores that are still all around the city and its surrounding suburbs."

Olivia started scanning those reports – and trying to make out Fin's scribbled writing. He was almost as bad as a doctor.

"I suppose you've got all your shopping all done," Amanda said.

Olivia gave her a glance and rubbed at her eyebrow. "Ah, no," she said. "Actually far from it. We actually do tend to shop in stores and we just haven't had a whole lot of time for that this year."

"Maybe you have to listen to your Millennial then," Amanda said, "and do what all the cool kids are doing – shop online."

"Are you done?" Olivia asked, still reading. "Beyond not having a Panda bear for under the tree."

"More or less," Amanda said. "I'm usually a bit more of a last minute shopper. But that definitely gets a whole lot more complicated with kids."

"Mmm …," Olivia acknowledged. "Well, if you happen to spot a 4-D Shark Anatomy kit in your online scavenger hunt, let me know."

There was silence until: "A what?" Amanda said.

Olivia glanced up from her work. "It's what Emmy asked Santa for for Christmas. If his workshop can't make her first choice — which is the also very specific request of the 'rainbow flamingo' Rainbocorn, which is a toy that comes in blind packaging and also has to happen to be one of the 'toys of the season'. So, of course, if Santa can't make that — or find that, which I'm very sure at this point won't be happening, at least for a guaranteed hatching of a 'rainbow flamingo' — her 'back-up' option is a 4-D Shark Anatomy model."

Amanda just looked at her. Wide-eyed, slightly more slack-jawed and at a much bigger loss for words than Amanda Rollins ever usually was.

"At this point, I'd settle for any of the 4-D at anomy kits," Olivia said.

"There's more than one …," Amanda said.

Olivia looked at her directly. "If there's an animal or prehistoric creature that you've ever imagined getting to hold all its organs in your hands — a kit likely exists."

"Well … that's … special …," Amanda said.

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow. "It definitely has to be a special order," she muttered.

"Umm … well, I somehow doubt I'll come across … any of that … in my shopping. But I do have more tree than anyone needs, though. I'm not sure if they would be classified as 4-D. But they're at least 3-D, if that helps. ."

Olivia glanced up at her and shook her head in a silent, confused question.

Amanda shrugged as Olivia went back to confirming the I's were dotted and the T's crossed in this paperwork before she filled her detective on what was to come.

"First Carisi decides that I'm doing the girls some kind of disservice by not letting the girls pick out a real live Christmas tree."

Olivia made a slightly amused sound and gave her a small smile.

"Do you have a real tree or a fake?" Amanda asked.

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow. "Artificial," she said. "Though, Benji tried to mount an argument for a real one this year – citing the bugs that would likely come into the house with it as a selling point to Emmy. But we managed to put an end to that argument when we got her to realize it involved killing a tree in the process and him to realize he'd have the added chore of cleaning up all the dead needles that would be all over my living room and then tracked throughout my house."

"I'll have to keep that tactic in mind for next year, because I feel the hot cider and sleigh rides that our resident lawyer went selling," Rollins said.

Olivia offered another small smile. "Did you and the girls at least have a nice afternoon out?"

"Sure," Amanda said. "It was fun. But it was like Al could sense Carisi was trying to start some kind of holiday tradition with the girls. It turned into a whole 'who's tree is bigger' thing."

Olivia did allow her a sound of amusement at that and gave her a more real smile.

"I'm serious," Amanda said. "We don't even have the tree decorated and the next day Al show's up with a 'Nova Scotia Balsam Fir', which is apparently 'the best' Christmas tree money can buy. It definitely made the one that we – by which I mean me, cause you don't want to see Carisi with a hatchet – chop down look like a bit of a Charlie Brown tree. But I don't know where he expected me to fit that thing in my two-bedroom, cramped apartment that's bursting with kid and baby stuff. I had to tell him to get the thing out of my building."

"Smooth," Olivia allowed her.

"Had to say it more than once before he actually listened," Amanda said. "The thing was seven feet tall. I won't get into it's girth."

Olivia allowed a quiet noise and looked at her. "Circumference," she suggested.

"I would've needed to find the hatchet again to get it to fit in my living room. Jam it in there Griswold style."

"Would've liked to have seen pictures of that," Olivia said.

Amanda made a dismissive gesture. "All there's to see right now is the sad little stick we chopped down. And it's behind baby gates. Not to keep Billie from getting at the ornaments as much as to keep Frannie from thinking it's a new designated bathroom spot."

Olivia gave her another little smile, as she signed off on Fin's paperwork and flipped to work through Amanda's. She knew she'd sail through it faster. Her detective's handwriting was impeccable and Amanda was usually too thorough in getting every line filled in on the mandatory forms that took up most of your job as a cop.

"Decl—" Amanda said and then stopped abruptly. Olivia glanced up at her. "Jesse's dad," she said instead and Olivia just kept her eyes for a beat, "even tried to get in on this tree schlong. He sent some extra money this month with a note to get Jesse something nice and a big tree."

Olivia allowed her a small smile. "I'm sure she'll appreciate the Panda bear and the memories of the day out with her mom and Uncle Sonny more than a bigger tree. I think Charlie Brown says it's not the size of the tree that matters, it's who's around it. Or something like that."

"Yeah, something like that," Amanda allowed her a thin smile.

Olivia tapped her pen on the desk for a moment. "Do you have plans for the holidays?"

Amanda shrugged and ran her hands along the arm rests of the chair, gazing at the ground a bit. "Fin usually has us over for dinner with some of his family on Christmas Eve and Carisi's mom had invited us out to Staten Island for dinner on the Twenty-Fifth. But I don't know."

Olivia nodded a bit. "Carisi might be the newbie who gets the short straw when it comes to the holidays, but I suspect he might be a little too green for anyone to be letting him take a swing at this one."

Amanda just shrugged again without comment on that. Instead she said, "Al wants to come by on Christmas Day and spend some time with us, Billie. Assuming I'm there. Maybe he'll be my designated babysitter."

Olivia exhaled a bit and put down her pen, folding her hands on the desk to look at Amanda a little more directly.

"How are you doing, Amanda?"

Her detective shrugged – but this time Olivia could see the defensiveness in it.

"Fine," Amanda said directly – very nearly spat.

"Really?" Olivia said.

And another shrug. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Olivia shrugged right back at her. "Because – yesterday, that crime scene, it was a lot, Amanda."

"We've seen as bad," she said. "Worse."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "I don't know about that," she said. "I've been doing this a long time, Amanda. Longer than you, and yesterday … it was up there."

"OK," Amanda said, sitting straighter. "Then how are you doing?"

Olivia looked at her – directly. "I'm doing my job. But last night – I went home and just stared at and held my kids, Amanda, until I feel asleep in their bedroom. And … it was definitely hard in its own way to get up and showered and dressed and leave them to come back in here, to this," she gestured at the piles of files and paperwork and monitor displaying unanswered emails, "this morning."

Amanda looked at her. "But we do," she said, "Because that's our job. And somebody's got to do it."

"They do," Olivia agreed. "But, right now, Amanda, that somebody doesn't need to be you."

Amanda glared at her. "Captain, I'm fine."

Olivia exhaled. "Amanda, the debrief from the psychologist last night says you aren't fine. And, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to relieve you from duty and put you on administrative leave."

"Are you kidding me?" Amanda spat at her and then sat forward, hand on her desk. "What did they say I said?"

"Amanda, you know they don't go into that kind of detail with me. But I'm obligated to follow through on their recommendation. In a case like this—"

"So you can say that it's one of the worst crime scenes you've ever seen. That you went home and held your kids, slept in their bedroom. That you didn't want to leave them this morning, but I'm the one being sent home."

Olivia let that hang there for a beat. She let them both take a breath. "Amanda, we aren't even a month out from your abduction—"

"I'm fine," Amanda raised her voice. "That was nothing. NOTHING. HAPPENED. Compared to what you went through, compared to Lewis—"

"And they put me on leave for a lot longer than a week, Amanda," she pressed at her. "And I didn't come back to work a case like this. We can't have any mistakes on a case like this."

"Oh," Amanda nodded, her mouth gaping in annoyed disbelief. "And because something – almost nothing – happened to me A MONTH AGO, I'm the one liable to make a 'mistake' on this case. You're telling me that they don't see a problem with you running point on this case? You're the one with boys. With one they age of one of those little boys who had his brains splattered across the Milky Way in that bedroom." Olivia cringed a bit. "And another one who's pretty much an acknowledged head case who's around the same age as the kid we've got handcuffed to a hospital bed."

Olivia let that settle too. But stared – glared – at Amanda as she did.

"I am very aware of the ages of the children in that house, Detective. And, trust me, it has more than occurred to me how if things had played out just a little bit differently with the situation that my two boys came from – that it could've easily been Benji and Jack in that house. I am aware that sharing even the vaguest details of things we're finding in that house with my partner – my husband – would likely be extremely triggering for him. But, I am not the One PP is pulling off the case – you are. And as your commanding officer, you need to hear me say that and follow your orders."

Amanda just glared at her. And they glared at each other. Until Amanda looked down at her hands in her lap.

"I really am fine," she said more quietly.

Olivia sighed a bit. "Amanda, take the time. It will be a week at most. Go back for the psych review when they call you in. Answer the questions honestly and … see what happens. Getting taken off this case isn't the worse thing. The ones with kids are always hard. And at this time of year … just … go home. It's the holidays. Try to enjoy them with your girls. Christmas with a four-year-old. It's fun, Amanda. Let yourself enjoy that. And, you know with the way this case is going, it's going to be a lot of having someone sitting at the hospital waiting to see if that little girl wakes up and trying to get her witness statement as soon as possible after she does. The rest of it – our hands are tied waiting for the ME's office and CSU to comb through the evidence and send reports back to us. I'm not going to need all of you on deck for that."

Amanda sighed and stared at her. "So Fin's drawing the short straw – because I got too emotional in front of the head shrinker."

Olivia tilted her head. "You really don't need to worry about that. However anyone gets assigned over the next few days for this case – it's on me, as the supervising officer of this unit. They can be upset with me."

Amanda let out another little noise.

Olivia sighed. "It's still a few days until Christmas," she said. "I'm going to see where we are at at the end of this weekend. But Fin's been doing this job a long time too, Amanda. He understands. And even if it's just for an hour on Christmas Day, I'll make sure he gets to see Jaden. Remember too, we've got a rookie now," she gave a little shrug. "Kat knows what that means on the job too."

Amanda just stared at her hands.

Olivia exhaled a bit. "If some of this is about having an out with Carisi … or his mom … or Al," Olivia said, "know you and the girls are welcome at our house too."

Amanda made a little sound. A snort of some sort of amused disgust.

Olivia slouched a bit and forced Amanda to meet her eyes. "Amanda, I know you've still got these preconceptions about my home life and about Brian. But I'm telling you, again, you don't need to feel that way. You are welcome. The girls are welcome. Munch will be there. Cragen will be in and out at some point in the day. I'm sure they'd both love to see you. And, Amanda, Christmas is simple in our house. Benji's … still a little weird about wrapped gifts and he knows how the whole Santa deal works. So Santa just leaves a couple gifts under the tree unwrapped for the kids. If Brian and I ever manage to get shopping – it's likely going to be videogames and Lego at this point. They're in their pajamas all day occupied with that. Brian's glued to Christmas Day basketball if he manages to get to control the TV. And I put a ham in the oven and pretend like that's cooking. And I likely won't get dressed until dinner either – unless I get called out. You won't be disrupting anything. And you aren't expected to show up baring gifts or dressed in your ugliest sweater."

That just hung there.

"I am fine," Amanda said again.

Olivia exhale and shook her head with a shrug. "OK," she allowed. "Then go be fine with your girls …"

In reality, Olivia almost – really – wished it was her who was being sent home. Her who was getting that time to try to be fine with all of this and any of this. Her who got time with her kids. Her who got to take advantage of that reality – that one where everything could just be different in an instant. Your kids could be gone. Your kids could be chained in a hospital bed, irrevocable damaged. Yo could get hurt on the job and your kids could lose you. Or your child could suddenly be sick – going to hospital and medical appointments without you at their side. And there was nothing you could do about it.

Nothing but be there. Now. In the moment. While you could.

Being sent home wasn't the worst thing. No matter what it might mean for your jacket or do to your career. There were worse things. Far worse than having mandatory, ordered time at home with your children.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are much, much, much appreciated and motivating.**

**Next chapter will likely be the whole family on their christmas outing.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

Brian gripped at Em's hands and tugged a bit at her arms, giving her a smile as she grinned up at him with that big goofy smile of hers. All baby teeth. Expect for that bottom front incisor that she'd just wiggled and jiggled - and fucking chomped and rammed every candy cane she could get her hands on – until it came out. Finally. That morning. And then fucking took it to examine under that kiddie microscope they'd gotten the kids last Christmas. Guess it'd be just about time to start spinning All I Want For Christmas for her that year. That was his girl. Fuck – both of his girls (Just had to be careful of Liv ever hearing him label her that). Just always had that look when they smiled. Somewhere off behind it. Just screamed troublemaker.

Like there was any question as to why – or how – both of them went and fucking stole his heart.

Emmy Girl looked away from him to gaze back down at her feet – where she was working at balancing on the top of his feet. Doing some kind of clog dance all of his boots. His fucking usually reserved for work boots. Basically working on making a real mess of them. Working at making for work for him if he decided he cared about going into the office a scuffed up mess. Likely didn't. But sometimes the gig required you to wear the costume and keep up appearances. Play the fucking part.

Brian gave Liv a glance. Had pretty much expected her to have some kind of comment about how he was letting Em entertain herself. Put an end to their kiddos fun. She played the Bad Cop role more than him when it came to this kind of shit. Like being presentable in public. Like issuing instructions about what everyone should be clothed in for this little day out. Make sure they looked put together enough for Manhattan and a matinee and a big ticket restaurant reservation on the weekend before the holidays. But Cassidy thought it was pretty much Liv at that point who was the least pulled together of the bunch.

It was pretty clear Liv had been off on some other wavelength that day. There with them in body (and looking way more like a cop than just a ma taking her kids out for some pre-Christmas memory-making, traditional fun) but not in mind. At all. Definitely distracted and pretty distant. But Brian had knew that was the way it was going to be. Couldn't really expect different with the kind of case SVU caught. And running point on that kind of shit. Makes it a little hard to feel the Christmas spirit. Or even make yourself be real present for family time. Brian got it. He'd been there. But it still kind of sucked. For the kids. And for Liv knew. Knew she looked forward to this outing every year. Dropped enough cash on it.

It was fucking funny. Down in Florida in the summer when they were at the theme park, he'd seen some guys wearing these tshirts that said "Most Expensive Day Ever". And, sure, they had a point. Doing Universal for a few days with the kids hadn't exactly been cheap. But he thought those dudes should come up to New York for a day. Because this fucking day every year? Fuck – between the cost of getting into Manhattan … gas, tolls and parking if they drove or MTA fares and wrangling kids if they didn't …, tickets for a matinee show on a weekend just before the fucking holidays, and then dinner out at a restaurant that demanded reservations, combined with Jack's birthday so knowing there'd be extra seats at the table, and that they'd be ordering dessert or buying some cake or cupcakes somewhere. Yep. This was pretty much their most expensive day of the year and Brian was also pretty sure he didn't need a calculator to figure out that averaging out the cost of their Florida stopover had still cost less per day than this annual tradition.

But it kinda was what it was. Add it to the list of things Liv felt she missed out on growing up. Childhood baggage and trying to heal as an adult. It's like that becomes what you spend your whole life doing. Just trying to get over how much your childhood fucked you up. And trying to do better for your kids. Or at least fuck them up in a different kind of way. And this Christmas in New York moment was something that Liv seemed to feel she wanted growing up in the city to look like for their kiddos. So fine.

Just too bad she wasn't checked in enough that year to enjoy it too. First time around she'd been this checked out on their holiday outing day. But at least Liv was kind of trying. As much as she could.

Had shown up for the show. Had trekked over to Rockefeller Square with them so the kids could see the giant tree. Take some pictures. Stare at the skaters. Navigate around the hordes of tourists. Dodge the Toy Soldiers trying to get you to selfie-insta-hashtag them in the fucking stupidest location to move the new and very fake FAO Schwarz. Tell the kids there was no way they were going into that commercialized, marketing trap – in a ranty tone that'd make Munchie Munch proud. But then turn around and subjected themselves to the slightly hypocritical annual visit to the overrun Lego store at the holidays. Watch the kids 'oooh' and 'aaah' over the models on display and the giant boxes with ridiculous prices – even though neither of them had asked for the bricks that year. Not that they let the kids do wish lists (beyond their Em submitting the Santa demand because she knew there was no way in hell Mom and Dad would subject themselves to this blind bag fall-out when you predictably get stuck with the toy you didn't have your heart set on). And not that just because they hadn't hinted at a set would mean that maybe one wouldn't appear. Though, definitely wasn't going to be the fucking $900 Millennium Falcon that was contained in a box the size of a fucking dog house of a dog that they most definitely would not be getting but had definitely been asking for for months and months and fucking months.

Hard to believe it was only a few days out from the holidays. And that it was the first time that year they were having them into Midtown for any of the annual holiday hoopla. But it really had been that kinda year. Or month. Gone into some kind of black hole.

Him and Liv were both run pretty ragged. With the job and the kids. They really needed – he really needed – to work, again, at carving some real time out for them as a couple. Take some Them Time away from the kids. And not talking about the job. But needed to do it as a family too. Some kind of break. Family time. Time that wasn't about homework and school projects and extra-circular crap and parent-teacher what-not and bedtime routine and chores and trying to keep Big Man as healthy as possible. Just needed … something. Some downtime.

Fucking 2019 – even with the good stuff – had really done them in.

But it was hard. Really fucking hard. Any kind of stay-cation and him and Liv were both attached to their phones. Even if they took a long weekend away or something – get out on Long Island or up to Boston or down to DC or over to Philly or fucking something – it was still close enough and short enough that they were plugged in. On-call. Available.

Case and point: That day even though Liv was present, hadn't felt like family time too much.

Intermission of the show Liv was out in the lobby on the phone. Walking over to Rockefeller after – back on the phone. While they were taking in the holiday sites there with the masses – phone.

And Brian had ended up being a bit of an ass. Kids were at the tree. Gazing at the psychedelic lights. There was a picture perfect New York moment. Barely glanced at by their mom who was in the midst of pounding out texts like no tomorrow. So she also hadn't heard the two of them shift from Milky Way chatter to what kind of bugs were in Christmas trees and if they'd live through winter to wreck an epidemic on the city to whether or not it was some kind of environmental or moral sacrilege to chop down a living thing that massive.

So Brian had leaned over to his Missus and said plainly, "You're missing it."

Liv had looked up at that. But at him. And the look on her face had said he might as well have been the one in that brownstone that had taken a gun to his whole family. Could tell. Just shot her through the heart there. And he hadn't meant to. Had really just meant literally what he'd said: she was missing it. But he shouldn't have said it. Least not that way. Should've drawn her attention to their Weirdos weirdo talk some other way.

But the phone did get put away then. For the most part. But the slight frown on Liv's face had stayed painted there. And he was kinda feeling that had way more to do with him in that moment than anything that her crew or One PP was at her about on the cell (that pretty much turned your life into a cell sometimes).

So Liv didn't have the phone out right now. Maybe it'd come back out. Maybe she was giving her detectives a break over the dinner hour. Or maybe – slightly more likely - the Big Wigs were calling it a day, or at least taking an hour or two to go rub elbows with each other somewhere swankier than where they were trying to grab dinner that night.

But Brian knew he was likely kidding himself there. She hadn't done a lot of looking at him since he'd stuck his foot in his mouth.

So for now Liv was just staring – really more like glaring – out the restaurant's front window.

Brian leaned around her a bit and took in the sight too. Jack and Renee were probably being a little too PDA for anyone's liking. But at least they were doing it out on the street rather than in there in the crowded lobby of the restaurant.

It wasn't that bad. It was clearly just two kids kind of smitten with each other. Renee clearly thought something Jack had spouted was funny. And Brian would give that a lot of shit that came out of the Kid's mouth was funny. Not always funny ha-ha. But funny.

They were basically just holding hands. Renee was probably standing closer to Jack than she needed to. It wasn't exactly like the city was experiencing frigid temperatures. Apparently they got snow for Thanksgiving and spring in December for Christmas that year. Cuddling up wasn't necessary. And it was likely more than either him or Liv really wanted to see. Not that either of them were really PDA types. Holding hands was about as far as Liv ever let him get in public. Even that might be asking for a little much at times with the whole keeping up appearances thing. Bad-Ass Benson …

Brian had made some comment about it to Johnny back around Thanksgiving. There'd been a bit of a sneaky hand-holding show going on then too between the two kids. And making-eyes. Pretty much puke-worthy.

But Munch was the wrong person to jib-and-jab that one with. Had gotten: "Well, Pukey can be a little pukey. Let's not forget how yippie-skippy you could get Yippie Skippy."

Right. Sometimes had to stop and remind himself about that. Knew he'd been real smitten with Liv too when he wasn't too much older than Jack now. Hard to think of it that way. Him that young and naïve. Or Jack that old. Just fuck. And maybe just … fuck, he hoped Renee didn't break Jack's heart the way Liv had. Definitely could see some parallels in personality and life experiences between Liv and this Renee girl. Though, sure seemed like there was some hope in Renee at least treating Jack like more than a one-time thing. And Jack was a lot to put up with. So maybe there was real love there.

What the hell did him or Liv really know about real love and relationships and making all that shit work in your twenties. Wasn't like either of them had managed that gauntlet with any success. And that was OK. Because … it was more real now. It was real now. With all the shit and all the time and all they'd been through – him and Liv might not be all PDA about it but what they had meant something. It had staying power.

So, suppose, let Jack and Renee … figure it out. Least they weren't out there necking, putting on a show for the whole backlog of diners gazing out the window.

Brian rocked a bit – nudging his shoulder against Liv's. It was a real slow movement from her as she pulled her eyes away from the show out front and gave him a questioning look. At least it wasn't quite as hurt or perturbed as over in Rockefeller.

"Don't stare," he nodded at her. Gently. Did watch his tone that time. Good.

But Liv still sighed out some annoyance. Brian wasn't sure it was at him or the Jack-Renee situation. Her eyes had glanced back there but then she just found his eyes again and gave hers a bit of a roll with a headshake. And that was definitely at Jack – not him. So he'd take that too.

Brian just shrugged at her. "Least they're doing it out there and not crushed into the rest of the orgy in here."

That got another eye roll out of her. She glanced around the mass of people milling around the tight space. And then darted her eyes off into the restaurant and then the hostess stand. Gave the girl there a real scowled once-over.

"Our reservation was for thirty minutes ago," she said – keeping her eyes on the hostess like the girl might hear her and suddenly decide to seat them ahead of the rest of these ass-hats trying to dine there too.

Brian just cocked his head at her. "What'd you expect at Carmine's, in Times Square, at their first dinner sitting, on the Saturday before Christmas?"

Liv gestured off into restaurant. "That they'd have nice Christmas decorations. That it would be easier for Jack to get to than the Upper West Side."

Brian rolled his eyes at that. For a kid that grew up in the fucking country in the mother-fucking smallest small town of all small towns, on a fucking property that you almost had to get into a fucking car to drive to the fucking barn to milk the fucking cows – Jack always made it sound like anything above like 86th St. was off on some other fucking planet. Settled into spoiled Manhattanite kid well, if you asked him. Add it to the list of reasons they needed to raise their kids in a different borough.

"Yea, well, probably would've been a few fewer tourists if we stuck to Little Italy. Or, Brooklyn. Last time I checked we do Italian pretty good too."

Liv gave him a bit of a look and gestured around the crowded surroundings. "He wanted to eat here." And air quotes. "'New York institution'."

"Apparently the rest of these ass-hats read that excerpt in the Lonely Planet too," he said.

"Swear," Em said bluntly. A real gotcha with her leaning into him with emphasis.

It was more like she was doing some navel gazing for him with at her height. But it was brief – thankfully. Navel gazing always should be. Then his girl leaned all the way back while still clutching his hands and standing on his feet. Feet only stayed there so long, though. She started one of her acrobatic tricks – her dirty boots climbing up his legs. Brian knew she'd be looking to get herself in position to do some sort of tumbled summersault she did using his hands as some sort of pummel horse.

But then Mommy the Bad Cop came out. "Emily, you're getting Daddy's pants all dirty."

Emily huffed and hopped down from his knee caps (fuck, they don't tell you you're going to spend the next god knows how many years a walking bruise after you become a parent). She landed right back on his feet. And there was another bruise. Gave some stink eye to her Ma.

"I prac-tis-ing," Em informed Liv. "Ninja Mag-ick."

"Mmm …," Liv said, rubbing at her eyebrow. A smile was creeping out. Finally. The kids were good at dragging those out of both of them. And so fucking needed that on the job.

Him and Liv both knew what their girl was talking about. Brian could tell. There'd been an acrobat or gymnast or something who'd come down from the rafters doing a bit of a show hanging from a ring in the show. The magician on the stage below pretty much made her disappear into thin air only for her to appear in a contorted box with samurai swords pushed through it. Allegedly. Big Man had readily pointed out in not so whispered tones, "Dad, they keep touching the blade. Of samurai swords!" Yea. Good point little, dude. These ones definitely weren't sharp enough for there to be any kind of concern about cutting a person in half. Weren't even leaving a mark on the 'volunteers' skin as they allegedly shoved them through the on-stage crate.

"That your favorite act, Em?" Brian put to her.

"Jep," she said with a jump that saw her feet again painfully searching for his kneecaps like some kind of traction grip in rock climbing. "Need to learn the mag-ick ill-you-eww-shin. You said dat takes lots of prac-tis."

"Well, Emily, I think maybe the kind of practice you need should be done at your Ninja School," Liv said. Funny how fucking gymnastics got relabeled as 'ninja school' or 'circus school' or 'parkor' to make it more appealing or trendy. More socially acceptable – without being a political statement or gender norms statement – for boys to participate? Fucking 21st century parenting.

"Nope," Em said. "Daddy can be da ring. I know howta hang and flip and tum-bell."

Liv gave their girl a stern look at that and reached over to urge Em back to standing on his feet and then to drop his one hand.

"We aren't going to do any of that in a crowd restaurant, Emily."

That got a great big huff. And a stomped foot that was stomped hard enough that it smarted Brian's a bit but made her lose balance so she was finally back on stable ground. And those arms got crossed and the pout-lip came out, the chin got tucked down and the harrumph glare set on her Mom.

Liv just kept it. She always did. "He knows if you've been bad or good," she put plainly, raising an eyebrow at their daughter.

That got another 'harrumph' and more stomped feet as Em turned to glare into the restaurant and effectively give Liv the cold shoulder.

Brian just gave Liv a little smile and tugged at Emily's pigtails. She batted them a bit out of his grip with a vicious shaking of the head. He let his hand drop away and gave Liv a bit of a shrug.

"They likely aren't going to seat us until our whole party is here," he said. "I heard her say that to another guy."

Liv sighed at that and looked at her watch again. "I don't even think their plane has landed yet," she said. "Don would've texted."

Brian shrugged. "Maybe it got lost in the mix of things."

Liv exhaled a bit and did reach into her pocket to retrieve her phone. "Do you remember which airline he said they were flying?"

"Nah," Brian said and reached to retrieve his phone too. "You want to check what's available on OpenTable around here?"

"This is where Jack wanted to eat," she muttered. She was lost in her screen again.

"So, tell him 'no'," Brain rasped. "You're good at that."

And – again – that had come out wrong. Her eyes were on him in a glare.

"Keep it up and you better get used to the sound of it," she said. And she definitely had tone.

He tilted his head at her. And, alright, there'd been a lot if "I'm tired", "I'm exhausted", and "I can't get this case out of my head" being said in their bedroom lately. But those lines hadn't just been coming out of Liv's mouth. And those weren't exactly "no". But also likely showed they might be letting themselves get into another rut again in more than one way. Fucking balance of work, life, love and family. That was a real magic act that clearly him and Liv still needed more practice at too.

"That's not what I meant," he said and jutted his head in Em's direction. "That's what I meant."

Liv exhaled. But her eyes stayed on him for a long beat. They looked at each other until she finally shook her head a bit.

"Sorry," she allowed and he found her hand – held it discretely. "I'm exhausted. This case…". Their usual shared lines. predictable. But so fucking them.

"I know," he said and rubbed his thumb across the top of her hand. She squeezed his. "Just try to rest a bit now. Take it easy. Recharge."

She nodded and her eyes moved away from him. He could tell she was taking inventory of the three kids again. Checking in on them. Em had moved over to stare into the fish tank with her brother. She nearly had her mouth planted against it – breathing air there to see if it'd condense enough against the glass for her trace her name with her fingertips. Big Man, though, looked memorized. His skin just looked weird with the way the dim light was reflecting through the water on him. Almost like molted and blue.

"He's fading too," Liv muttered.

Brian allowed some kind of acknowledgement. Big Man had been a little off that day. But Ben was a little off almost every day anymore. Add in the rain, never-ending classmate cold germs, added hoopla and business with the holiday-lead up – and, yea, the kid was a little rundown. Having to add the xray into their day before heading to the show hadn't helped. Added fatigue and nerves in the kid with that. Ben always crashed a little after any kind of medical encounter. But at least figured they hadn't spotted anything too urgent. Radiologist hadn't held them back. Got the usual li e about the clinic being in touch on Mo day.

He glanced over at the window again and give Liv another little nudge and then directed her eyes there too. Cragen and his lady friend had finally shown. Out there whooping it up a bit with Jack and Renee.

He gave Liv's hand another squeeze. "Sit down," he said, nodding to a seat that had just opened up with another over-sized family group finally getting called in. "Figure out what we're ordering so we can keep this show moving. I'll let the girl know everyone's here now."

Liv allowed a small smile at that but gave him a direct look. "It's not going to be us knowing what we want to order that's the hold-up," she said with her own nod at Jack's again somewhat animated talk out front. Eileen had really seemed to take a liking to that Kid over the years.

But Liv was right. Jack and any kind of choice – even if it was just a menu with more than like five items on it (burrito, fijita, tacos, salad or a bowl) – was going to take about six hours. Or six years.

"He's ordering spaghetti," Brian said. "He gets as long as it takes to hear Cragen's input on how we're doing this Family Style to say he wants spaghetti."

Liv allowed him the smallest sound of amusement as he made his way over to the hostest counter and she quickly claimed the quickly filling vacant seats.

"Little Fox," he heard her call.

And by the time he'd let the girl know their party status, and turned back around, Ben had his ass propped as close Liv's knees as possible so he could pretend like he wasn't sitting in his mom's lap. But he was slopped back against her with her arms wrapped around him and her cheek against his temple and ear.

Brian knew the maneuver. He could tell Liv was weighing his body language and checking his body temperature and breathing just as much as she was engaging in conversation with her kiddo.

"You tiring out on us, Benj?" she asked. But the kid only shrugged.

She hummed some acknowledgement into his ear.

"You feeling OK?" she pressed gently.

"I've got a headache," Ben muttered.

"Mmm ...," she allowed. "You need a Tylenol?" Her hand landed on his forehead. Could see her leaning around him some - disguising it as a tighter hug - to take a peek at his eyes. Check their dilation and glassiness. But Big Man had kind of look a little stoned most of the day. Pretty much par for the course anymore. The fucking meds. And all Liv really caught from that angle anyways was side-eye - and the accompanying shrug from Ben right along with it.

"Yeah? You sure? It's not too bad? You're still having fun?" And that got a nod. Maybe a bit of a weak one. "What was your favorite part of the magic show?"

"It was neat when they made it snow," Ben kind of whispered. "Inside. Not like bubbles. Like snow."

"Yeah, it was," Liv agreed. "I really liked the card tricks too. I wonder how they did all that."

"They were just illusions, Mom," Ben said but it was kind of garbled in a way. Maybe just all the white noise and chatter going on all around them? hard to hear much of anything.

"I know," Liv smiled against her boy's temple. "But still. I sure don't know how they did most of those illusions."

"Practice," Ben mumbled a whole lot now. Slurred really. "And math. And science."

"You think so?" Liv said.

Big Man nodded a bit. Liv stroked some at his cheek and matted, hat head. But she cast him a look as she did. He must've felt hot, clammy or just sweaty. Those were kind of typical Big Man states lately. Borderline fever-ish.

But Brian looked away as the door up at the front of the restaurant opened. Checking to see if his people were finally coming in. And they finally were. The whole lot of them – Jack, Renee, Cragen and Eileen.

He held up a hand so they could spot them closer to the front. Knew were likely trying to spot Liv or the kids before spotting him. But with the kids' heights and Liv sitting down – he was all they got.

But he'd only briefly made eye contact with Cragen when it was Liv's voice that caught him again.

"Brian," she near yelled. Barked.

And as his eyes drew him to look back to her and Big Man – they went wide. Ben was … shaking, tremoring? Seizuring? His tired looking eyes having rolled back until all you could see was the whites. His body slipping off the ends of Liv's knees as she struggled and shifted to keep him from hitting the floor. But working to get him laid out as the mass of people suddenly opened up around them as their little boy got laid out on the floor shaking and drooling like he was in some kind of drug over-dose.

"Benji, Benjamin," Liv was saying as Brian's already bruised knees smacked to the ground with them.

Thinking stopped. And some kind of just … instinct … as a parent or as a cop … training … just kicked in. Basic first aid. Supporting neck. Clearing airways. Protecting his head and spine. He wasn't even sure who was doing what. Him or Liv. Maybe more Liv.

"Benji — can you hear me?"

"It's going to be OK, Big Man."

"What's wrong with Bubba?" That was Em. Terrified. And he could hear the tears. He could feel his arm — somehow — reaching out to keep his little girl back. Begging her to stay back. To give them space. To try to calm her down. Tell her her brother was going to be alright.

"Would somebody call a bus!"

He didn't know if it was him or Liv who said it. Shouted it. Fucking screamed it. Liv. In command.

Someone said, "I've got it."

And somehow he became aware that Jack and Cragen were standing over top of them. Gaping at them. Jack's panicked face. His knees hitting the ground too. Liv being the one screaming at him to give them space.

But it all just was a blur. Everything a blur.

Except his boy. His wife. The floor. And the whites of those eyes.

Fucking high focus in that moment. Amidst the mob. And the noise.

Just them.

His whole fucking world. The loves of his life.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are very much appreciated. And motivating.**

**The next chapter will be at the hospital or Lindstrom's office. I'm undecided on if it will be a Liv or Brian POV.**

**I'm also considering doing a chapter from Benji's POV. But it might be challenging to find an 11-year-old's inner voice.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

Olivia startled a bit as she sensed something near – nearly around – her neck. Her eyes jerked open and flew away from the sensation – very nearly shoving at it.

A slight 'oof' radiated from the source of the sensation. And as her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room, she realized Brian was staring back with her with nearly as startled look painted across his face. But it quickly creased into worry.

"Sorry," she muttered and scrubbed at her eyes, willing them to adjust to the light faster.

"Yea, me too," Brian mumbled back, adjusting himself on the narrow, hard sitting surface that called itself a couch. "My arm was asleep."

He dragged his arm off the back of the couch – where it'd been raised and draped around her, holding her against his shoulder and his chest as she had stared at their sedated little boy in the bed in front of them. Somewhere in the quiet, and the beeping of the machinery and wires monitoring Benji's heart rate and blood pressure and breathing and brain activity, she'd somehow let her eyes drift shut and must've drowsed off. The quiet whoosh of airflow of extra oxygen being blown up Benji's nose and into his airways could almost be mistaken for waves off in the distance if you listened to it just right. You could almost pretend they were back at Cragen and Eileen's condo a few blocks from the ocean and all that white sand and staggeringly blue waters.

But that wasn't where they were – and her eyes and being instead adjusted to the reality they were sitting in. The reality that Brian must've still been staring at because even in the dark she could see that the rims of his eyes were red and below them was puffy. The not quite dry streaks from tears were catching the glints of light that were coming into the room.

She reached and gripped at the hand on the arm he was rubbing at and shaking – trying to get the pins and needles out of it. To get it back to join the reality they were living in.

Brian let her hold his hand. But with his other hand he reached and rubbed his fingers and palm across his face in an attempt to disguise the tears that had been there while her eyes had been closed.

"What time is it?" she asked, already shifting her free hand to check her watch, find her phone, find the answer herself.

"I dunno," Brian mumbled somewhere from under his scrubbing hand. "Like maybe almost six or so."

Olivia hummed some acknowledgement as she stared at the white lettering declaring the time on her lock screen. And the mass of text messages and voicemails blocking the photo of her beautiful, smiling, sun-kissed children actually on a beach and in that surf and sand not that many months ago. She sighed a little and tucked the phone back into her pocket. She wasn't ready to deal with … work, the job, the case … or whatever else was waiting for her there … questions, condolences, hopes and fears greater than what she was already feeling.

"When's the doctor supposed to come?" she asked. She tried to remember – amid the flood of information, and non-information, and borderline terror that had collided with them for hours the night before. This never-ending night.

"I dunno," Brian muttered. "I think they said he starts his round at like eight. Who knows where we are on their fucking triage."

She tensed a bit at that. At the potential of waiting hours more to be told they needed to do more tests, which would take hours more to conduct and then hours more for results. Hours and hours without any answers. Without any solutions. Just this darkness. This ache. This consuming worry that huddled on you in this nearly suffocating way.

"Has the nurse been around?" she pursed out of the very depths of her lungs, trying to exhale all that worry that had been building there like a dark smoke.

"Yea. A few times," Brian mumbled. "Pretty much every forty minutes. On the dot."

"How'd I sleep through that," she said more to herself than him. But he still shrugged a bit in her grip.

"She's stealthy," he provided. "Not like she's doing anything for him. Just looking at the numbers on the machines. Think a computer could be doing that. Or us."

"You haven't slept," Olivia said – giving him a more serious look, bordering on concern.

But it just got another shrug. "Can't," he said but how her eyes remained on him, prompted him to add, "I've rested my eyes a bit."

He shifted a little more away from her, rising up like his bones and joints were weary. And they probably were. Things like this struck you to the core. They aged you overnight when they weren't so young anymore.

"I'm goin' to take a leak," he muttered at her. "Find a coffee. You want one?"

"Yea," she agreed, holding at his hand until it slowly slipped from her grip. And it was slow because as Brian stood he remained in place and stared at Benji for a long beat – motionless – before he trudged toward the door.

Olivia watched him get part way to the door before she let her eyes drift back to Benjamin. She sat back in the couch – trying to find some sort of comfortable spot in this uncomfortable situation – and she just stared. She took note of the different readings on the various machines. But then she stood.

She stood over her little boy and looked down on him. He looked pale and somewhat clammy. And motionless. She found his hand and held at it, rubbing up along where his thumb met his wrist to avoid the plastic tubing taped there where an IV was slowly dripping anti-inflammatories and antibiotics and steroids into his damaged and confused immune system. He felt cold to the touch and she tucked the thin blankets provided by the hospital more tightly around him.

But her attention shifted as she heard Brian's rising voice out in the hallway: "Oh, c'mon. You can't even give her an overnight when our son is in the fucking hospital. She doesn't need the fucking guilt trip."

"Cassidy, it's not like that…" she heard Rollin's hurt and defensive response.

Olivia exhaled slowly and willed herself to carefully set down Benji's hand. She walked to the door and looked out and down the hallway. Brian was literally blocking Amanda's path from coming the rest of the way down the hall. But his stance was tired – exhausted. She was sure Amanda could've taken him. That she very nearly could've blown him over with how bowled over he already was. But she was just standing her ground – in the scrappy, wounded puppy way that Amanda always went after everything. For better or worse.

"Brian," Olivia whispered yelled – firmly and clearly down the hall.

The whispered raised voice – argument mode – had been mastered in the years they'd built this relationship with kids in their home. Endless arguments and bickering and hashing out their realities and boundaries and disagreements in defining the structure of their family and life as a couple – all done in the hours after the kids were asleep. Unless they were having a real blow-up with each other. And she wouldn't lie. There had been some. And unfortunately the kids had witnessed at least a few of the initial eruptions before they excused themselves to another room and boiled some more before they agreed they weren't going to argue with the kids in the next room. So instead they simmered until Benji and Emily were asleep to then whisper in raised tones until they reached some kind of resolution. Or point of exhaustion.

Brian only gave her a half glance that morning. His one shoulder swayed in her general direction. His head turned enough for her to know she had his ear. But they didn't make eye contact.

"It's fine," she said. "Let her by."

She could tell his arms remained tight across himself. His feet planted firm. And for a long beat he didn't budge. Until his hands shoved into his pockets and Olivia knew his glare would've stayed on Amanda as he started to rock just enough that he was about to move.

"Bri," she called again – more gently. And that did get a glance that time. She got his tired, hurt eyes. She gave him a weak smile – at his awkward and sometimes fool-hearty attempts to be her protector. She at times appreciated it and at times were completely frustrated by the gestures. But it was Brian. He was endearing in his own damaged way. "I could use a real coffee," she said. "Not whatever they've got in the waiting room."

His eyes stayed on her for a long beat. She knew he was reading between the lines. That she wanted a few minutes alone with Rollins. But he got the message and only took another moment or two before he accepted it. He allowed an almost indiscernible nod and moved passed Rollins. Olivia could tell he was silently communicating to Amanda his distaste about work appearing at their sick son's door that morning.

The detective kept his eyes until he was by and he took a much quicker pace toward the end of the ward. He glanced into the room and glanced back at Olivia again – cocking his head and pointing in. Another non-verbal message that communicated to her that Jack was still in there; and she allowed a little nod, as Brian pressed open the doors and disappeared into the main hallway.

Jack didn't appear so Olivia suspected he must be drowsing in some awkward and neck-cricking position in there too. And she'd let him sleep. Just like Brian had her. There was nothing for him to do there right now anyway. She'd already told him he should go home. Or that if he wanted to be a real help – to go be with Emmy. But Jack rarely listened to her. And even when he did it wasn't on the first time she told him anything. She had to be a broken record before any point was driven into his thick skull. Though, she supposed it was nice that for once – for the first time in a very long-time – he was showing some support and concern for his nephew. For them as a family. For her and Brian as parents to the little boy.

She gestured for Amanda to come back down the hallway – and Olivia took her own few backward steps to be back in front of Benji's door. She again checked that her little boy was asleep and then adjusted herself to be a pace away from the doorway but within sight and earshot.

"I'm sorry," Amanda said as she got to her, gesturing back toward where Brian had exited.

"He's not wrong, Amanda," Olivia said. "I'm off-duty right now." She gestured behind her at Benji's room. "I'm dealing with a family emergency."

"I know, I know," Amanda held up a hand to stop her. "Fin told me."

Olivia rolled her eyes a little at that. "And whatever Fin told you, I haven't had a chance to look at what's come in overnight. And I don't intend to for another hour or two. So until I tell you otherwise – you're still off the case."

Amanda nodded. "OK. That's fine," she said and Olivia raised an eyebrow to her. "I shoulda said Fin told Carisi and Carisi told me. I'm not trying to get Fin to reverse your order or anything. But, if you need any help—"

"Amanda," Olivia warned.

Rollins held up her hand again in some kind of stalled peace offering. "Any kind of help. Not necessarily with the case …"

Olivia exhaled and shook her head, gazing down at the patterns in the tiles of the scuffed and battered floor in the state-of-the-art hospital. It was still one of the newest in the city but had already so clearly seen so much wear-and-tear and family tragedy even in its first few years of existence.

"I think we've got it covered," she said quietly. As covered as you could ever be for situations like this. As covered as they ever would be. As they ever really were.

"Yea?" Amanda pressed. "Because, I know – I know – that you and Brian have had a bit of a rough go with all three of your kids when it comes to this hospital and this health stuff. I know it's kind of part of your family reality—"

"It's not," Olivia said flatly – but firmly. Maybe more firmly than she meant to and she met Amanda's eyes. She near shook with the pain of the firmness. She struggled a brief moment to make sure her voice didn't betray her as much as she was sure her eyes would. "This is not our reality."

Amanda looked at her for a long beat. Her features softening. "Are they telling you anything yet?"

Olivia shook her head and let out a long exhale and against examined the floor for several seconds before looking back to the other woman. "Not really," she said. "They ran some tests – imaging – on him when they brought him in."

"Is it the lupus?" Amanda asked, and Olivia could tell she was looking past her shoulder and into Benji's room, seeking to see what she could in the dim-lit room. Her son's small, unconscious form in that oversized bed surrounded by medical equipment and lines.

Olivia crossed her arms and took another deep breath. "It could be," she said. "Apparently there are a percentage of cases where neurological symptoms develop within a the first two years of diagnosis. That with children an actual seizure is often a one-time thing early in the disease process. But there's also a type of lupus that affects the central nervous system and the brain. Attacks them. And then it could be … something completely different. Not related. Or connected. No one's really talked to us yet since we were in Emergency. They just shuffled us through tests and then admitted us up here."

Amanda gave her this look that was nearly as broken as Olivia felt. "Liv … I mean … as a mother, I just can't imagine."

Olivia looked down again at that because she felt her eyes glass again. And she felt Amanda's hand grip at her elbow. She looked at her.

"Where's Emmy?" she asked.

"Ah," Olivia allowed and rubbed briefly at her eyebrow as she composed herself again. "Home. Cragen and Eileen took her home for us. They're with her."

Amanda gave a little nod. "Do they need a break? Or do you want them back over here to give you and Cassidy some support? Because I can head over there, take the girls, have a bit of a playdate."

Olivia gave her a thin smile for that effort. "Thank you," she said. "But I think … everything's under control."

They shared a look for a long moment. They both knew that things very much weren't yet. Not only weren't they but they were tumbling toward an endgame that Olivia couldn't even predict yet. And that was often the scariest part of any of this. There were times where she felt like dealing with Benji's illness was almost scarier – more devastating – than when she was being held … abused, violated … by Lewis. At least then she still had some kind of control, some sort of say or will power to call up in herself to make some kind of decision on how to fight to rectify the situation. As beyond her control as it was, there was still choices and actions she could take and make for herself. But in these hospitals, with these doctors, in moments and situations like this she found herself feeling so incredible helpless and so at the mercy of others in such a different way than she'd ever experienced in her life before.

Amanda shifted a little and handed her a plastic shopping bag. From Marshalls?

"What's this?" Olivia asked.

Amanda just gestured at it. "I needed some spool down time after yesterday," she said. "I guess I figured since I'd arranged for the nanny for the weekend anyway, I might as well try to finish my Christmas shopping."

Olivia looked in the bag and gave her a questioning look as she read the side of the box – and then reached to pull it out.

"I know it's not likely what Santa's workshop makes," Amanda said of the 4D anatomy model of a frog. "And it's no shark. But—"

"No," Olivia shook her head and gave Amanda a kinder smile. "She loves frogs. Metamorphosis. She's supposed to be doing Junior Rangers this spring. They do wildlife lifecycles. It's perfect. She'll get a head start."

Amanda allowed a small smile back. "But, really, it was only like seven bucks."

"A real hot seller …," Olivia joked a little – weakly – and stared at the box and its contents as the reality their lack of preparation was going to bite them in the ass badly. But it'd be a good lesson – about the real meaning of the season. Maybe a little too raw, though.

"Clearly," Amanda agreed. "Being in the Marshalls toy section and all. But if it's not what you were talking about, or what Emmy would like, I mean I can return it. Or give it to my girls. Though, Jesse will likely have it cast as the Frog Prince and will want to know why it's not transforming into Prince Charming after she kisses it."

Olivia gave her a thin smile. "Haven't start educating her on the non-existence of Prince Charming?"

Amanda rolled her eyes a little. "Hard to do when she's got Uncle Sonny spoiling her like she is some kind of royal princess and willing playing the Ken doll every chance he gets."

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed and let the science toy slide back into the bag. "He's a good one, Amanda. He might be … Carisi. But he's a keeper. And so is this," she said holding the bag tight. "Thank you for spotting it."

Amanda shrugged a little. "I'm happy to drop into another couple stores with a list, if you want. I know you said you were running a little last minute with your shopping."

"Ahhh," Olivia allowed and gazed back at Benji's fragile-looking form. "I wouldn't know where to start," she admitted and exhaled to look back at Amanda. "And I really don't know where we'll be come Christmas morning. Depending on what's going on and what treatment they decide, it sounds like we could be here a few days."

Amanda looked into the room again. "They've started something?" she asked of the IVs around him, Olivia knew.

She just gave a nod without details of what they were pulsing into her child's body. "He's sedated. To give his nervous system some chance to rest. And it just made last night … easier." She paused and tried to collect herself as she felt her eyes glass again. "He was so disoriented, so scared when he came to."

"You were too," Amanda offered gently. "And Brian. I'm sure Emmy and Jack and Cragen and all y'all."

Olivia just allowed a little nod and looked back at the tiles again.

"Liv, really," Amanda pressed. "I know we've been on some shaky ground for a while – but as a friend, mother-to-mother, if you need anything right now, help with anything, just say. I'm here for you. All of you. We all are."

Olivia nodded and allowed herself to look up at the other woman. "Maybe a change of clothes. Something more comfortable for all of us. I know Brian's not going to budge yet and I don't really want to issue an invitation to his mother to go rummaging around my bedroom and closet."

Amanda allowed her a little smile. "Oh, but you're OK with me getting all up in there?"

Olivia smiled faintly. "I promise you won't find anything in our underwear drawer beyond underwear. But I can't promise that Emmy won't help you and work at opening draws to exposing all our secrets."

Amanda raised her eyebrow a bit at that but offered no comment. There wasn't any comment to be made. There wasn't anything to be found that would be particularly shocking – and Emily had already found their lubricant in the nightstand and used it as hand lotion (all the way up past her elbows) on a previous bedtime story routine before it got grabbed away and she got a second bathtime that night. The lube had since been moved and storytime had also relocated to the kids' bedroom. Though, no guarantees that Emmy wouldn't go searching for the 'special lotion' given the opportunity.

"Anything specific you want?" Amanda asked.

Olivia shook her head but then gestured at herself. "Just not this," she said of her work clothes that she'd had on for over twenty-four hours at that point. "Jeans … a sweater." She gazed back at Benji. "Something more normal for him. Sweats. Pajamas. Something to … distract him a bit when he wakes up. The iPad, some coloring sheets, markers. … Can I just text you a list?"

Amanda nodded. "Sure," she said. "Let's do that."

Let's do that. It was a plan. It was something. But the coming days felt like a blur. Like Christmas – it did not. More like the Nightmare Before …

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Readership is appreciated. Feedback, reviews and comments are treasured — and motivating. Taking the time to leave one is much, much, much appreciated.**

**Not sure what the next chapter will be or who's POV it will be from.**

**Also playing with an idea for a chapter that includes Tucker.**

**Otherwise might jump ahead a bit. Not sure if people want to see/learn more about Benji's treatment and situation or not. Or just want them to get home and move on.**

**Debating best course for the story.**

**Still debating doing a Benji POV chapter too.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

Brian leaned back against the wall in the hallway, crossing his arms while Liv just stood there making that face of hers, tugging at her chin. Those fucking brief times she was at a loss for words. Though, Brian sort of suspected it had more to do with her being so fucking tired at that point that she was just taking longer to process what was being spouted at them by the doctor.

"So what you're saying is that we've been here like eighteen hours and you still can't tell us what's wrong with our kid?" he pressed at the doc.

"That's not what I'm hearing," Liv muttered. Her arms were crossed too. Tight. Protectively. Brian could see the gears still turning there. Still taking in the spiel they'd just been given.

"I think the take-away here is actually rather neutral, Brian," the doc said. "If you want, we can look at it as good news. On the imaging we conducted there is no obvious or concerning signs in Benjamin's brain or spine as to what caused the seizure. We've been monitoring his his brain activity for almost eighteen hours, like you said. We haven't seen any activity that's abnormal."

"Exactly," Brian pressed. "So our kid had a seizure and you don't know why."

The doc clutched at the tablet he was toting around with him. Showing them information. Imaging. That all just looked like nothing even when he was pointing things out. And it all just really amounted to nothing. Because he was telling them nothing.

Liv moved closer to him. She squeezed at his elbow and gave him a look. It was a clear order: 'calm down'. She was taking this in stride much better than him. And he didn't know how she was managing that. He was at the point he wanted to hit something.

But he forced himself to release the vice grip he had around himself and his arms fell loose. Though, his fists remained clutched tight. Until Liv reached and wrapped her hand around the one and held it. It prompted him to loose it. To let her slip her fingers into his palm. To hold tight there. Work at grounding himself a bit.

"Often seizures go unexplained," the doc said. "And it's rare that they'll be diagnosed as anything other than a seizure until there's been at least two incidents."

"But you're treating him," Liv said. Or maybe asked. "You want to continue treating him?"

The doc held at the tablet some more. "We are treating the lupus, not the seizure," he said. "Now, this is where it gets a little confused. Neurological features are often associated with lupus."

"OK, I Googled that," Brian said. "This neurological lupus you keep mentioning. It's the one that kills people. Sooner rather than later."

Liv's hand gripped at his tighter. It was her who had the vice grip now. And the doc held up his hand for him to stop.

"There is no concern that Benjamin has neuro lupus or cerebritis," the doc said. "Cerebritis is too often batted around as this all encompassing term for all neurological symptoms associated with lupus. And then, when our patients go Googling it, they end up seeing the worst case scenario. Here, we only use cerebritis when referring to those worse case scenarios – which are very, very rarely seen in children. But – the neurological implications of lupus are much more likely to be seen in children, because they are diagnosed younger than someone who is in their 30s or 40s. They have more life to lead. It is impacting a brain that's still developing."

Liv shook her head and let out a little sigh. "And what does that mean for my son? For what's happening now?"

The doc adjusted himself again. "It means that we do have neurological concerns about Benjamin. His learning delayed and challenges – they could be related to this underlying disease."

And Brian felt Liv sink against the wall with him at that. Her hand went back to pulling at her chin.

"The headaches – are they new?"

"Ah, yes," Liv sputtered and shook her head. "I mean no. When we started bringing him to the doctor it was more about his lungs. He was having fatigue, rashes. Complaining of a sore throat all the time, aches in his legs." She gestured at lymph nodes in her own neck. "He had headaches but it's been more since he started all this medication. I thought it was that or taming one thing meant another was more apparent to him …"

The doc nodded. "And the headache ahead of this event?"

She looked at him. Brian shrugged a bit. "I guess all day. But he wasn't making a big deal about it."

The doc just nodded again, though, made some kind of note on his tablet. "Headaches and migraine are the most common neurological feature of lupus in children," he said. "Seizures are the most common event. Difficulty thinking, forgetfulness, dizziness, neuropathy. It's all part of it. But, in children, some of the neurological implications are usually already present when their diagnosed. And with almost 95 per cent of children – they are going to have a major neurological event that sees them end up in hospital within the first two years of diagnosis. Some times it's the sudden onset of migraine. Sometimes it's muscle and leg weakness or unexplained tingling. And a lot of times it's a seizure. The good news is that in the vast majority of children the seizures are very easy to control and it's often a one-time event."

"Then why aren't we going home?" Brian pressed at him.

The doc frowned a little. "The seizure, itself, and those test results I showed you, the antibodies that are abnormal, the fever he is running – he is clearly in a flare. And since it included a seizure, we are treating it as a serious flare."

Liv inhaled and exhaled next to him. And Brian took his turn to squeeze her hand in his. She squeezed it back.

"So, like I was explaining, we are going to refer you for follow-up and monitoring with a neurologist. But the neurologist on-call doesn't see anything concerning right now. Obviously, though, we are going to ensure Benjamin gets the ongoing care he needs there – coming from that perspective, not a rheumatologic one. So I need you to set aside the seizure for a moment, and focus on how we are going to treat the current flare of the underlying disease."

"What you're doing isn't working …," Liv muttered – but it was direct too.

The doc shifted his eyeline more directly to her. "I'm not yet seeing the improvement I would like. Many patients, at the dose of methylprednisolone we're giving him, we'd see rapid improvement."

"You said it was a three-day course," Brian directed.

The doc gave a little nod. "And, we could continue for three days and we where we're at. But – I'm sure you know that these high doses of steroids do open him up to infection. We're in the midst of cold and flu season. You mentioned his sister has a cold right now. It's the holidays – I know no matter how much you limit visitors, there are going to be additional visitors at this time of year. And, that combined with the fact the event that brought him in here was a seizure and that I'm not seeing movement in his antibody readings, I do feel we're justified in moving to the next line of treatment, as we discussed."

"The plasma exchange …," Liv said flatly.

The doc gave a small tilt of his head.

There was another long exhale from Liv and she looked at him. He looked right back at her. Brian wasn't sure what she was asking. He didn't think she was asking for advice. Or even his opinion. But maybe she was. But he also didn't know where he stood. Where he stood was wanting to get his kid well and home.

"How does that work? Will we be able to do it out-patient?" Brian asked. Because it didn't seem like Liv was going to ask or say anything more.

"I think our best bet is to start with one treatment and see where we're at," the doc said.

"Typically," Liv interjected, "how many treatments are needed?"

It got a small shrug. "Generally, it ends up being several sessions over about a two week period. With Benjamin, we're likely looking at at least three."

"And he has to be in the hospital for two weeks?" Brian pressed harder.

The doc shook his head. "No," he said. "But I would like to keep him in the hospital until we see how he does with the plasmapheresis. It can cause seizures as well. Loss of consciousness. Numbness, muscle twitches."

Liv rubbed at her eyebrow. "You said he'd need two procedures ahead of that treatment," she said.

The doc nodded. "He's not passing as much urine as we'd like. And, at least during the plasma exchange, he needs to remain relatively still and on bed rest for the duration. So, I'd like to insert a catheter."

Brian rolled his head against the wall at that and looked at Liv. She was holding it together so much better than him.

"And the second?" she asked flatly. Almost without feeling. It was like they were entering some kind of robotic stage in interacting with all this information and these choices.

"With children, it's easiest if we place a direct line for the treatment. We could do it in the femoral or jugular artery," he said gesturing at first his groin and then his collarbone area. "With the objective being to get him home as soon as possible, and do as much of this out-patient as possible, I'd recommend the jugular. But, we do have to put him under general anesthesia to place the line and some parents prefer to avoid that as much as possible. Understandably, it does come with its own risks. When placed in the femoral artery we can just numb the area."

"But we can't take him home?" Brian asked.

"You hopefully will be able to," he said. "General protocol is that he'd still be on bed rest at home with the line placed there. And we do change it about every seven days, so he may have to go through the placement procedure two or three times."

Brian cringed and Liv just shook her head and stared at his shoulder.

"We have a family friend staying with us right now," she mumbled – still at his shoulder even though it was clearly directed at the doc and her eyes slowly moved there. "He has cancer. He has a port. Benji knows he's very sick."

The doc allowed a small nod. "Placing a Hickman in Benji may actually make things easier for going forward. Lupus patients often have bad veins. It will make his IV treatments and blood draws much less of an ordeal for him. We can talk to him about how other children have it and still go to school and play sports and live very normal, healthy as possible lives."

Liv just exhaled again and went back to staring at his shoulder.

"I can give you some time to think about it," the doc said. "To talk about it together. And with Benjamin."

Liv shook her head. "We'll switch to the plasma exchange," she said flatly. "And jugular line. He doesn't need to go through any more than he is already."

The doc gave a nod and marked something on his tablet. "I'll give you a few minutes. But a nurse will be down shortly with some paperwork and to place the catheter."

The guy just paced away and Liv sunk her forehead until it was resting against his shoulder. Brian just held at her hand.

"You alright?" he asked.

"No," she mumbled softly. And then her phone buzzed in her back pocket and she made a frustrated noise and reached for it. Staring down at it between their two bodies. "This fucking case …," she whispered under her breathe.

"This fucking disease …," Brian said and stared at the wall in front of him – glad that Liv wasn't looking and that he wasn't in front of his kid. Because he felt about ready to bawl.

And maybe Liv must've too because she shuddered against him. A sob wrecked out of her lungs – while she tried to choke it in. And that did him in too.

And he just wrapped his arm around her and held her. She didn't look at him and she didn't look at him. But they cried there together. Silently but vibrating through each other.

"I'm just so fucking tired …," she whispered.

"Me too," was the most Brian managed to get out.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**A second chapter is likely to be posted later tonight (or at least within less than a 24 hour period) so there won't likely be a bump or a second notification sent out. Please make sure you didn't miss it.**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are appreciated.**

**Next chapter is a Liv POV. Might jump away from the hospital and do a Jack chapter after that. Or might jump ahead a few days.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

**TWO CHAPTERS WERE POSTED TONIGHT. CHAPTER 6 and CHAPTER 7. Please make sure you didn't miss one.**

"Mom, you stopped coloring," Benji near whined at her.

Olivia glanced up from her phone and looked at the intricate Art With Edge coloring sheets on Benji's bedside table. Benji lived for these coloring sets. They'd gone through multiple sets. She regularly picked them up and tucked them away when she saw them at a decent price. Or more, that she saw the last season's coloring sheets end up on the shelves at some kind of overflow stock surplus outlet or a dollar store – at much more reasonable, highly reduced prices than she could pick them up at any art store or department store. There they'd run up to about $20 for a set. She refused to pay more than $5. Not for coloring sheets and markers.

She'd intended to try to one of the sets into Benji's stocking or have it out from Santa on Christmas morning. But she'd guided Rollins to where the stash was to bring a set in for them to try to keep him occupied and distracted. Thankfully this one was some kind of graffiti inspired set with pictures to fill it that looked like they'd been taken right off the walls of Bushwick. She was glad that the Spiderman comic pages hadn't been grabbed – even though she hadn't specified and hadn't even been thinking about that at the time. But depending on how interested Benji still seemed in the coloring by the time they got home, maybe she'd still be having a set delivered by 'Santa.'

Somehow Benji still made even his coloring look like some kind of master class in art. He picked colors and filled in the spaces with grading and shading and transitions and contrasts that he always had some beautiful masterpiece to hang on their fridge or tact up on his bedroom wall when he was done. It was hers that always looked like … not even an 11-year-old had done the coloring. An artist she was not – even if she liked looking at the end products.

"Ah … I'll join in again in just a minute, Benj," she said, giving Brian a glance. He was absorbed in something on his phone too – likely work. She knew he was trying to sort out his work situation for when tomorrow morning rolled around too. But somehow Brian seemed to get a pass on participating in most art activities. Maybe he was just that bad at them. Though, sometimes she suspected Brian was purposely bad at certain things – the ones he really didn't want to do.

"Do you want to play Uno instead?" Benji asked.

"Umm …," she hummed and looked back to her phone. "Bri, you want to play Uno?"

He made a humming sound that said he'd heard his name and realized he was being spoken to – but he hadn't heard a word that had been said.

"Brian," she pressed more directly, keeping his eyes on him until he looked up at her – still clearly off in whatever he was dealing with too. "Uno?"

"Ah …," he looked at Benji – and the hopeful eyes that had turned to him instead. "Ah, aren't you getting a little tired again, bud?"

"No," Benji said. There was a firmness to it.

"Yea, OK," Brian allowed. "But I think maybe you should rest, Big Man. Why don't we get a flick going on Netflix for ya?"

Benji made a frustrated 'huff' sound and even though Olivia had gone back to her phone – she was fully aware that her attempt to deflect momentarily to Dad had failed and her son's eyes were right back on her.

"Mom …," he whined again.

"I just need another minute or two, Benji," she muttered. "Then we can color or play Uno or watch Spiderman or whatever you want."

"I wanna go home," Benji said even more firmly.

She sighed a little at that – internally and externally – and she looked up at him, phone set down. She reached for his hand instead.

"I know, sweetheart," she nodded at him. "But you aren't well enough to go home yet. We talked about this. Remember? Your antibodies are way off and you have a fever. You're in a flare and it's important we get you out of it."

Benji exhaled hard and stared straight ahead – across the room – in a bit of a pout. She didn't blame him. She felt about the same way. But she wasn't quite allowed to act that way. Not that that had entirely stopped her when she was outside of the room and out of Benji's sight and earshot.

She stared at Brian on the other side of the bed. He just frowned at her. She could tell he felt just as helpless as her – if not more so. She could see him teetering a bit. His temper had been short with the doctors and nurses. He looked near tears most of the time they were at Benji's bedside. And, if she could see that, she was sure Benji could too.

'Work?' she mouthed at him.

He nodded. 'And insurance. Plasma exchange,' he mouthed back.

She nodded.

"Why are you both working?" Benji asked with a harsh edge. "It's Sunday."

Brian reached and shook Benji's toes under the blanket a bit. "I'm getting things all squared away for tomorrow, Big Man. So I think you should be doing the same. Picking out some flicks for us to have a big movie marathon."

"I don't wanna movie marathon on Monday or in the hospital," Benji said. "I wanna go home."

And his eyes set back on her like she was supposed to wave some magic wand and make that wish come true. But she gave her head a little shake. "Benji, we're staying here until the doctors tell us you're well enough to go home. And that's not going to be today. And it might not be tomorrow."

"But it's Christmas break!" he pressed at her.

Olivia shifted in her chair and leaned closer to his bed, finding his hand again. "And that doesn't have anything to do with the situation we're in right now, Little Fox."

His eyes watered at her. His lower lip trembled a bit. "You're gonna go home and go to work tomorrow, aren't you?" His eyes darted to Brian too – like Daddy's proposed movie marathon was a big lie too.

She shook her head a bit. "Sweetheart, I'm not going home until you're going home."

"But you're going to work," he argued, his voice near breaking. "You're working now. You both are."

"I'm not working right now," she nodded at him. "And Daddy was just working to make sure his coworkers know he's not going to be in the office tomorrow."

"You are working," Benji insisted, trembling a bit. "Your phone keeps dinging and you're making work face."

Olivia smiled thinly at that. "I have work face?"

"You definitely have work face," Brian countered across the bed.

She shot him an unimpressed look. "And you don't?"

"Not like that," he said, giving her a little nod.

She smiled a little, looking down for a moment, but then looking at her little boy in the eye. "You're right, Benji, I am getting some messages from work that I have to deal with. And, yes, I might have to go and help Uncle Fin for a bit tomorrow. But, right now, I wasn't working."

"You're lying," Benji said. "You had work face."

She shook her head at him. "We don't lie to each other in this family. Right?"

He just looked at her tearily.

"You know what else – who else gives me 'work face'?" she nodded at him. He only shrugged. "Peedg. And he was sending me a message about your and Ducky's Christmas presents. And maybe it makes me a little stressed and a little grouchy thinking about Christmas shopping this late."

Benji scrunched his face up as he considered that. "What'd he ask?"

"He just wanted my opinion on something," she said.

"And you were looking up the answer?"

She nodded. The real truth was that Jack's message was less about something he was getting the kids and more about her asking him to pick up a couple things on her behalf for stockings. She at least wanted to make sure the kids had their gift from Santa and something beyond a navel orange, a new toothbrush and underwear in their stocking on Christmas morning. She was hoping that her or Brian would be able to get away from Benji's bedside. But the concept of either of them even stepping outside the door or going to the bathroom was sending her Little Fox's anxiety through the roof now that he was awake and still disoriented from the attack on his central nervous system and agitated from the high-dose steroids that had been pumped into him and completely exhausted and emotional from the whole ordeal and illness. But she could see him fighting tooth and nail to stay awake – conscious.

So until he was passed out again for any amount of time, she knew that neither her or Brian were likely going to be leaving the ward for shopping or otherwise. It was going to make Monday interesting. It was already making things interesting with Emmy stewing at home and them not being allowed visitors just yet. Emmy would likely be turned away between her age and her stuffiness and cough too. They were likely going to have to go and check in with her and calm some of her fears, give her some affection and a bit of Mommy and/or Daddy time too.

"What's he not know?" Benji asked.

Olivia clocked how he phrased that. She was sure it was purposeful. And it wasn't unwarranted. Honestly, even though she'd sent Jack a list of some items and links to a couple others to show him exactly what she meant and to give him an idea where to get them. Even though he'd had multiple Christmases with her doing their stockings to see what she general stuffed into them. Even though he should know his little niece and nephew's likes and dislikes to fill in some of the blanks – to get them things they'd enjoy and not things that he wanted them to like or thought they should like. But she wasn't sure how that'd go. What exactly she'd ended up with to try to have something like a 'normal' Christmas that was sounding more and more like it was going to be in a hospital room – or entirely separated – unless Benji responded spectacularly to this new treatment or Emmy miraculously got over her cold in the next two and a half days.

"I don't want to ruin the surprise," she said. And a surprise it definitely might be from the line of questioning and the numerous pictures of about every Treasure X product BUT the Alien Dissection kits she'd asked Jack to pick up. She'd seen them at the bloody CVS. They were everywhere. She didn't know how or why Jack was making it so complicated. But that was Jack. She was about ready to send him a text that said to forget it. That she or Brian would grab them … in the fucking hospital gift shop likely they were so prevalent.

But the answer was enough for Benji. For the moment apparently. He looked back to his coloring and picked up a marker again and carefully considered what space to fill next.

Olivia shared a long look with Brian. She could tell they were both measuring how long they had to sit there engaged again before picking up their phones to sort out family and work-life that was taking place outside that room. It was so hard when what was happening in front of them was so important. But if they didn't deal with what was happening outside it they'd be really pulled away from this room. That they both might anyways.

She rubbed at her eyebrow. "Do you have tomorrow sorted?" she put to Brian directly.

He just gave his head a little shake. "I might have to go to the office and pick up some files. Get Cragen or Munch to bring my work computer over. Try to work remotely."

Olivia made a little sound at that.

"What's happening on your case?" he asked.

She shook her head and exhaled. "Forensics," was all she said. And Brian's eyes stayed on her like he expected more. But She wasn't going to talk about it in front of Benji. Especially not with the way he glanced at her with interested eyes. 'Forensics' was a catch phrase with him lately.

The 'forensics' of being a Fire Investigator or a Fire Marshall. Crime Scene investigation unit. The science of it. The 'Forensic' units in the Exploratory Program at his school that he'd get to do next year. If he could be a firefighter scientist with a gun. If he could be a cop scientist solving crimes. If he could be a spy and work for the CIA or FBI because they used forensics too. Or maybe he'd just be a forensic scientist.

And all that talk – and dreams – of the future, just seemed too hard right now. Unbearable.

She picked up a marker and went back to examining her coloring attempt too. She didn't take nearly as long as Benji to pick a spot to start applying the light blue marker ink.

"Are they gonna bring lunch or snack soon?" Benji asked.

"No, Little Fox," she said. "You can't eat until after they put that special tube in you so you can get the special medicine. The plasma exchange so scrub clean all your blood. Remember?"

"Not even a popsicle or jello?" he asked. His pleading eyes set on Brian. He clearly thought he'd have better luck there.

"It's like surgery, bud," Brian said. "Since they have to put you to sleep like a surgery, they don't want you to have anything in your belly."

"But I'm hungry," he said. "Haven't eaten in forever."

"Yea," Brian agreed. "It's been a while."

Olivia shot him a look. That wasn't helping. But it'd been a while for all of them. But they weren't going to eat in front of Benji and he was barely letting them out of his sight now that he was awake. Not that she had any kind of apetite right now. She doubted Brian did either. She was almost surprised that Benji did. It made her want to go out to the nursing station and ask them to come and check on him. That he must be feeling better, that his numbers must have improved, that the flare was coming under control – and they could just side skirt the pending treatment plan.

But she also could tell just from looking at her little boy that none of that was really true. And that Benji was just looking for loop holes and delay tactics and avoidance tactics to try to get home and out of this situation too. He'd been in hospitals enough at this point he knew how it worked. And that just wasn't fair. He shouldn't known these things.

"And I'm sure they'll have juice and a popsicle or jello for you ask soon as you wake up from the procedure," she nodded at him.

"But when's it going to be?" he whined weakly.

"As soon as a radiologist and a procedure room are available," she said.

He gazed at her. "I don't want to go to sleep," he said.

"You aren't going to want to be awake either, Little Fox," she said, reaching and finding his hand. "The doctor said it's a really, really quick procedure. You won't be asleep long."

She could see him biting on the inside of his bottom lip. But he just gazed at her wordlessly. He was breaking her heart repeatedly that day.

And Brian must've seen it. He leaned forward, giving Benji's leg a little tap. "You still want to play Uno?"

Benji's eyes shifted his way but he only gave him a little shrug. And that shrug suddenly sand lower and his eyes went wide.

Olivia followed his sight to see that a young African American male nurse had just stepped into their room, a treatment cart with him.

"Hey, guys," he greeted a little too cheerily for the situation. "I'm Andre and I'm going to be getting the catheter placed for you Ben-jam-in."

Benji sank back into the bed a bit, giving her a look and gripped at her hand tighter.

"What you go by, Big Guy?" Andre asked. "Ben-jam-in," he in-toned again, each syllable with a real umph. "Or you more of a Ben?"

Benji just stared at her. No response.

"Benji's fine," Olivia provided on his behalf.

"Aright," Andre nodded with a bit of a jive to him. "Benji, you had one of these before?" He asked, as he pulled the cart a little closer to the bed.

Benji barely shook his head so Olivia responded again for him. "No," she allowed.

Andre nodded a bit and started setting up some things on his cart. "Ahh," he allowed, "and I hear ya. It's OK to be nervous, Benji. But, trust me. This is no big deal. It's gonna take me longer to get us all set up to start than it will for me to get it in place for ya. And we'll all be done. No worries."

Benji just held at her hand. She could see Brian staring at what Andre was getting set-up. Brian had seen a lot of the course of his career – he'd done a lot – but she could see some muted horror painting across his features as he looked at the tools of the trade – and the tubing that was about to be shoved up their child's penis – being readied on the table. The color was draining from him.

The last thing she needed was him fainting in there, which given the lack of food and amount of coffee they'd had in the past 24-hours was a definite possibility. Worse – with the way she saw Brian teetering that day, with the his short fuse that was showing – she was concerned about them wading into a post-traumatic stress episode. Dealing with this was stressful and traumatic enough. In fact, she was pretty sure that by the end of this – whatever the end of dealing with lupus was – their whole family was going to have a new and added layer, if not an outright additional diagnosis of post-traumatic stress from their experiences with the disease and the medical system.

"Are you going to be OK?" she put to him directly.

They'd already talked about it and Brian had said he would be. But she wasn't so sure. She could see signs in his body language – in his exhaustion, in the way he was talking to people, in the look in his eyes – that he was in a vulnerable enough position that triggering might happen to easily.

"Yea …," Brian said flatly.

"Has Dad had this done before?" Andre asked, casting Brian a look while he worked.

"Yea," Brian allowed. "But I wasn't conscious when they did it."

Olivia smiled a little at that comment. The tone he'd used. But it wasn't really funny. And it also likely best he hadn't been conscious. She didn't think Brian would deal well with the experience of having a man touch his penis – even in about as non-sexual way as you could get. Just like she wasn't entirely sure how he was actually going to deal with a male nurse touching their child.

"Sure," Andre said, though. "But no big deal, right?"

"Ah, yea," Brian allowed and found Benji's eyes. "Definitely not a big deal, Big Man."

Olivia wasn't sure she believed Brian. But she appreciated him being the man and the father and the support for their son in that moment.

"Big Man," Andre kept on chatting – clearly trying to be distracting. "I like that." But he gave Brian a look. "OK, Dad, if you're sticking around, I'm gonna need you to move yourself and your chair up closer to his head."

Brian allowed a little nod and stood, pushing the chair well back and going to stand at the head of the bed.

"Actually, I just need to get by you for just a sec," Andre said and stepped around him. "Little ride," he smiled at Benji and reclined the bed back to a supine position.

Benji's eyes looked at her – wide as saucers.

"It's OK," she nodded at him and gave him a gentle smile. Or at least as much of a smile as she could attempt.

"I don't want a catheter," Benji said weakly – to her, not Andre. But it was Andre who replied.

"Hey, Benji," he said, "you know, I don't think anyone wants one of these things. But, you know, I've got your chart here and it's telling me that they've been giving you some real heavy duty stuff to get you on the mend."

Benji's eyes drifted to him but he still looked terrified.

"Yea, and you know, when any of us are getting that kind of medicine, as much as our bodies need it when we're sick – you know, our body also needs a way to get it out. You know, after it's done doing it's job and it's fought back the stuff making us sick. It stays in us and it can be kinda toxic – make us sicker, slower to get better. If we can't flush it on out. And, your chart here is also telling me, you've been having some trouble peeing for us. And you know, here in the hospital when you're having a treatment, we real big on you peeing real regularly to get all that toxic stuff out. You know sometimes we even collect it and measure it. Do tests on it."

Benji scrunched his face a bit at that.

"Yea, I know," Andre nodded. "Kinda gross. But kina cool too. You know, science."

"Chemistry …" Benji whispered.

It got a big smile out of Andre. "That's right, my man," he said. "And this is gonna make it easier for us to do all that science. Chemistry magic. Gonna make it easier to flush this stuff. Help you along with the whole peeing thing."

"Or I'll just pee," Benji said – his voice broke. The pending tears were apparent.

"Shh, shh," Olivia said and pressed her lips against the top of his hand. "It's going to be alright."

"Mama's right," Andre said. "It is. And, Benji, if you wanna pee – can pee - before I put this in, it's likely a real good idea. But I'm still gonna need to put it in 'cuz I see you're all set in the schedule for a plasma exchange."

Benji just looked at him. His eyes were watering.

"You know, Nurse Tina? She's been helping you out today? Well, she'd already told me you like science. And that you're pretty down with all the super hero stuff?"

"The firefighting, rocket scientist, basketball star of our Marvel family …," Brian provided – more to Benji, brushing at his forehead.

"A hoopster? My kind of dude. Now, see, though, I knew it. I could tell you're a cool dude," Andre said, still working at readying materials on his cart and filling out forms, ticking off boxes while scrutinizing his material table and the machines around him, making notations of each. "And I think you're going to really like this plasma exchange stuff. Not only is it hopefully gonna help you feel better, it is pretty awesome science, my dude. But – you've gotta stay pretty still and in bed for the whole time the machine's doin' it's thing. And, bud, that's gonna be like at least four hours. Whoo," he added with a bit of a swipe across his forehead. "Now, I've had some IVs in my day too, kiddo, and I know they sure all the fluid makes me wanna pee bad. And I wouldn't wanna be stuck in my bed with my bladder just bursting on me for like four, five, six hours. No way. That's the worst. Amirite?"

Benji just stared at him. But Andre still went on.

"So that's where this comes in," he said with a gesture at his medical materials. "Keeps it all real easy on you. No burst bladder. No bed-wetting fears."

Benji just gazed at the man and held at Olivia's hand.

Andre glanced behind him as Nurse Tina entered the room. He gave her a small smile. And Tina met Olivia's eyes and offered her a gentle smile.

"So no worries," Andre said again, turning back to Benji and gaving him a small smile. "Hakuna Matata. Alright?" Still nothing. "OK. Tina's here."

"Hi, Benji," she called still rubbing sanitizer into her hands from when she'd entered the room and then just as immediately pulling on medical gloves.

"She's gonna be helping me a bit. So we're already to get started. OK?"

Benji gave no response. And nether did her or Brian. What was there to say really? They'd already signed off on this route.

"Mama? You sticking around too?" he nodded at her.

Benji's little hand turned into a vice grip. He squeezed so hard – harder than she knew he was capable of with his swollen and ache joints and the weakened state he was in. He crushed her knuckles together to the point it said a jolting ache up her forearm.

"Don't go," he whimpered at her.

She shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere."

"OK," Andre nodded. "Mama, I'm just gonna need you to stay above his waist. OK? Need space to work."

Olivia nodded and adjusted her chair a few inches, still holding on to Benji's hand.

"How you doing there for warmth, Benji?" Tina asked. "You feeling warm enough?"

"Not really," Benji whispered. "Your blankets aren't so good."

Andre made a little amused sound and cast Benji a bit of a Cheshire Cat grin. "I hear ya. Can't say that's the first time I've heard that one. So, you know what, we're going to get you covered with a few extra blankets to keep ya real warm while I work. But, we're gonna need to adjust the whole covering situation here before I can get started."

Benji looked away. His eyes finding hers and pleading at her. She held at his hand with both of hers. Though, out of the corner of her eye Olivia could see that Andre had moved to fold down the two blankets that were covering her son.

"Now these look warm," Andre commented of his plaid-printed flannel pajama pants. "And stylin'."

"Are they new?" Tina asked. "You got an Elf on the Shelf bringing mischief and surprises into your house?"

"No …," Benji said quietly. "The Pajama Elf doesn't come 'til Christmas Eve."

"Nice," Tina smile. "I know you're a big kid. But I've got two little guys at home. So, Santa's still sending an Elf on the Shelf to keep them in line. Busy monitoring everything for the Big Elf himself. But, Benjamin, I've got to say, our Elf gets into a whole lot more mischief than either of my boys. They're pretty happy about it, though. Especially if the mischief comes with a little surprise, and I guess the Pajama Elf handed out some of the PJs early. My guys appeared the other night. Their Elf brought them.

"Good plan," Andre jived. "Get them all nice and worked in some – comfy – for Christmas morning. Right? Definitely gotta have new PJs for Christmas morning."

"Sleep pants," Benji whispered again.

That got a smile out of all the adults and Andre gave him another little amused look.

"Right, see, you're a Big Guy. A sleep pants, dude. I hear ya. And, gotta say, they're nice ones. Knickerbocker blues and oranges on those knickers, right?"

Benji almost nodded – but didn't. Likely more to avoid engaging in any real conversation with Andre in his on-going efforts to try to get her little boy to relax a bit – to make this easier on himself. And less likely that he was going to mount an argument about if the blues and oranges were actually representative of the Islanders – which apparently was the 'right' hockey team to cheer for in their house.

"OK," Tina conceded at the silence. "We're going to want to keep these nice and clean for you. So we're going to take them off now. But we'll have them right back on you and getting you warmed up again soon," she said very gently.

Benji didn't budge so Tina moved his eyes to Brian, giving him a small nod.

Brian hesitated for a moment too, giving Olivia a look but then stepped forward.

"Big Man, you need to lift your butt a bit for me," he rasped softly.

Benji's eyes bolted to her.

"Mom, don't look," he told her.

Olivia gave him a weak smile and shifted her chair another inch or so and leaned in so her face was near his. She brushed her hand against his forehead and short patchy hair too – her fingers finding Brian's there and them staying together for a long moment.

"I'm not going to look, Benj," she assured him – her nose rubbing briefly against his and then backing away just enough so they both went cross-eyed. He smiled a little at it and she backed a way a little more to smile down at him. "But, if I see anything, there's nothing there I haven't seen before. I'm your Mom."

His hand held tight to her and she looked at Brian, giving him a nod to go-ahead. To help them get this over with as quickly as they could.

And Benji looked away – off beyond her even at the far wall of the room. But he did lift his rear and Brian shimmied the pants off Benji's waist and shucked them off his legs before carefully folding them and setting them back on the couch behind him.

Tina reached and adjusted Benji's hospital gown, tucking it up around the boy's chest. She gave Brian a look as he moved back toward Benji's bedside.

"If he takes your hand again, Dad, I'm just going to need you to make sure this stays up here for me."

"Sure …," Brian managed. It was likely best he was being given specific jobs and specific purposes right now. Brian often functioned better in those situations. As a partner and father. Direct expectations and responsibilities. Something to work for.

And as Brian's one hand tucked in around Benji's armpit, holding the gown in place, his other hand returned to stroke at their boy's turned head.

Andre worked at tucking another clean blanket up around Benji's chest and then another down around his legs, starting at about his knees. But after they were placed, he nudged those knees slightly apart. Olivia could sense the resistance in her son as he did it. She suspected she knew the feeling. Knees closed tight while waiting for gyno exams and the initial urge to not spread them for the doctor performing the exam. The greater urge to resist that invasion during the rape kit she'd had to subject herself to after she'd escaped Lewis. And how that wave still washed over her whenever she had to go in for an exam even now.

"It's OK," she whispered at Benji as Andre nudged again and her son let his legs fall the way the nurses wanted or needed that time.

Blue surgical papers got placed over top the blankets at either end too, still leaving his crotch exposed until Tina stepped forward with another surgical sheet with a hole cut in the middle of it, getting the opening so it was right over top of her little boy's genitals.

"OK, Benji," Andre said gently and evenly. "We're all set. So I'm going to touch you now."

Benji's hand gripped at hers tightly and she held it right back.

"It's OK," she said again – and that time, since Benji was still looking off at the wall – she caught eyes with Brian. She nodded that reassurance at him too. But he kept his eyes on this little human they were raising together. His hand stroking up Benji's forehead and against that short-cropped, patchy hair of his.

"So, try to relax, Benji," Andre said. "Just as best you can."

Olivia could feel that Benji wasn't relaxing. She could feel that Brian wasn't. And she sure wasn't. And she was just as sure that the nurses could feel that in the room too.

"OK. So, first I'm just going to be cleaning the area and putting some disinfectant there. So it's likely going to feel a little cold," Andre said.

And at that Benji scrunched his eyes shut and held her hand tighter. Olivia glanced at Brian and could see that he wasn't going to be able to watch. He was pale and she could see him near shaking too. So she nodded and mouthed, 'OK', to him yet again. And she squeezed at Benji's shoulder while she held his hand tight and she broke her promise, moving her eyes to watch what the nurse was doing.

"OK, Benji," Andre said. "I'm gonna put the catheter in now. So I'm gonna be touching you again."

Benji squirmed, tensing even more. His face scrunched tighter with it.

"It's alright," Tina said. Her hand touched at his one leg.

"I'm gonna have to move you slightly," Andre warned. "And I might have to touch your testicles and your pelvis, maybe you belly, too. OK?"

No response from her son.

"It's OK," Olivia said on his behalf. "We're OK."

Andre gave a little nod. "I might ask you to adjust your legs a bit," he more told Olivia that time than Benji. "We'll help you get them in a way so this will be a bit easier. If we need to."

"OK," Benji near whimpered out that time. And Olivia saw Brian stroke at Benji's hair again, cupping his head and caressing his fingers in massaging motions against the little boy's temple.

"You're going to be alright," Brian said. Olivia wasn't entirely sure if it was directed at Benji or himself. They likely both needed that reassurance.

"Daddy's right," Tina assured. She seemed to be there more for moral support – and likely liability when it came to any adult having to touch the genitals of children. Multiple people in the room so their couldn't be any accusations of untoward actions.

"So this is gonna to be a little uncomfortable 'til I get it in place," Andre said. "But I'm gonna do it as fast as I can."

"You're going to feel some pressure, Benji," Tina said. "But we need you to keep really, really still."

"OK …" Benji whispered again.

"Good boy," Olivia said.

His grip was near crushing her hand. She wasn't sure that Benji had summoned that much strength in weeks – if not months. But maybe they all needed that kind of strength coming out of him to get through the next few days.

Benji made a small noise between his gritted teeth and scrunched up eyes. Olivia's eyes darted to the uncomfortable look on his face and then moved back to observe what the nurses were doing. Andre manipulated her little boy's prepubescent penis, which was just yellowed with the disinfectant. She felt herself cringe a bit too as he carefully worked to thread a plastic tube up the tiny hole of the urethra.

She felt - more than heard – herself make a little noise. She hoped the rest of the room hadn't heard it. And her eyes moved away. She didn't think she could watch either. She'd seen enough. Enough to know the insertion was being treated in a completely professional manner. Enough to know that she wouldn't want that done to her. She imagined this type of procedure was likely worse for men. They could see the tube coming out of them. She suspected it likely had farther to go and needed greater manipulation to get it in place too.

"You're doing so good, Little Fox," she assured Benji.

But Benji made a little grunting noise again and shifted slightly.

"It's almost there, Benji," Tina said. "We just need you to keep still."

"And try to relax all those muscles a bit for me, Big Guy," Andre said. "Try to stop clenching your teeth. Don't grip mom and dad's hands so hard."

"Take a deep breath," Tina encouraged. "You're doing so well, Benji. Just keep being calm."

The grip on her hand relaxed just a tiny bit and Benji let out a shaky breath that sounded like it had been held for … since before this all began. But it must've been all Andre needed because seconds later, he declared. "OK, I've got it. We're all done."

"Good job, Benji," Olivia declared immediately. Her hand landing on top of Brain's where he was still patting at her son's cheek.

Benji's eyes stayed clenched shut. So tight but a tear still managed to wring itself out of the one. Olivia reached and swiped it for him, massaging along his ear before removing her hand and facing the nurses.

Brian grabbed at the chair behind him, and sat down, getting his face clothes to Benji's as the boy slowly righted his head. Brian stroked at his cheek and assuring him that it was all done and he'd done good. That he was brave. That they were proud of him. That it was going to be OK, and they'd be heading home soon.

But it was just mixed into the background of Tina talking to her. Tina asking about whether Benji usually wore briefs or boxers. Some explanation about Benji likely finding boxers more comfortable right now with the tubing. That Andre would show her son the best way to tuck himself and tape the tubing if he decided he wanted to wear briefs while the catheter in. That the bag had to be kept below waist-level at all times, so they'd show them how to hang it off the bed for if Benji still needed it when they were sent home. How, and where, to anchor it on his leg for when he wasn't in bed. That Benji experiencing some pain while it was in would be normal as his urethra, urinary tract and bladder spasmed around the foreign object that had been lodged inside him. But how if he experienced burning or they noticed a brown or red discoloration in the bag when they were emptying it, that he might've developed an infection – which his body was doing so poorly fighting right now.

And Olivia knew she was only hearing and processing so much of it. Because it was really more than she could hear or process or think about right now.

And she moved back over to Benji as Tina talked. She sank back into the chair and she rested her forehead against her little boy's – willing her to give him some of her strength that felt so sapped in that moment. And if she couldn't do that, willing that she could take on some of his pain.

And all she could really think about in the moment, blankly and mutedly was: 'So this is Christmas.'

And she hoped that the nurses could see and Benji couldn't feel the quite tears that were trickling from her scrunched shut eyes too.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Second chapter posted tonight. Please make sure you didn't miss Chapter 6. Go back one.**

**Feedback, reviews and comments are appreciated.**

**Next two chapters will likely be one featuring Tucker and one featuring Jack. And then we'll likely jump ahead a couple days to what their Christmas looked like.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

Olivia could feel Brian lurking in the doorway as she splashed some water on her face in the washroom. But she ignored it for a moment and finished washing her face, grabbing blindly for a towel as she rose and patted it against her face, her eyes, her cheeks. She took her time letting it come down – to open her eyes, and spot him more in the mirror than she did give him any kind of glance.

But she saw his reflection give her a thin smile. "Hey, Beautiful," he offered.

She snorted at that and went back to patting the water off her face – working to center herself again. "Nice try," she said. At that point she was far from beautiful. Olivia wasn't even sure how human she felt in that moment. But his gaze stayed on her. "You about ready to head out?"

He sighed a little at her and his arms crossed as he leaned in the frame even more. "You sure you don't want to go take a real shower?" he said.

"I'll go down to the family lounge and take one when you get back," she said. "If he's still asleep."

It got another quiet sigh from him. "What about getting a couple hours' sleep? In a real bed."

She frowned a little at him – though, she knew his efforts were sincere. He was trying to take care of her. Or maybe more he was trying to make sure she was taking care of herself. But she was a big girl. And she'd had a lot of years looking after herself before Brian Cassidy was on the scene.

Still, she went over to him and wrapped her arms around his side. He gazed at her as she did but accepted the affection. He likely needed it just as much – if not more – than she did. His lips pressed against her forehead before she settled her cheek against his shoulder. He held at her. His nose almost in her hair at the top of her head. She was sure it needed as much of a wash at that point as the rest of her.

"He's in Mommy Mode," she whispered against him. "We both know he's not going to handle it well if he wakes up and I'm not here."

"I know," Brian admitted. His cheekbone adjusted on her head.

"So, you go shower and change and get a couple hours sleep," she said. "Before he switches to Daddy Mode."

"Yea …," he acknowledged. "Just don't like leaving you two."

"We'll be fine, Brian," she said. "I'll be fine. Honestly, I need a bit of time and space to just … process today. To make a plan for the next few days."

"Yea … who you gonna manage that?" he muttered. "Didn't feel like what got a whole lot of clarity about what the next few days are going to look like."

"OK, so work on some contingency plans. For Christmas, for Emmy's care, for work. I need to sit and deal with some of the work messages and phone calls too. Try to figure out how I'm going to navigate tomorrow."

He gave a long exhale. "Yea … me too," he admitted. "But I'm just gonna grab the computer, my work bag. Get the take-home vehicle. Head back here."

Olivia shook her head a little bit. "Take your time, Bri. Maybe stay until Emmy is awake. Give her some reassurances and some Daddy time."

He hummed some kind of acknowledgement at that.

"His treatment isn't scheduled to start until nine," she said. "You don't need to rush."

"Yea …," he allowed.

She rubbed her cheek against his shirt. He held her a bit tighter and she shifted in his grip to get – to give - a real hug. He pressed another kiss into her hair for that. And they just stood holding each other for a while. Olivia wasn't sure who was propping up who in that moment. Or maybe it was more that it was a bit of both.

"You'll stop and pick up a pack of wrapping paper on the way?" she muttered.

"Yea …," he acknowledged.

She rubbed her cheek against him again as she thought. "Can you see if you see those Alien X toys when you're in the store? You know what I mean, right?"

"Yea …," he allowed again. "They'll get a kick outta those. It's a good idea. Take up most of the stocking too."

She smiled a little. "That's pretty much the plan."

"Yea …," he said again.

She inhaled and exhaled. "Likely get some of his fidget toys and Rubix," she said. "A Transformer, maybe. His sketch pad."

"Flame …," he added.

"Yes," she stressed. "We definitely need Flame before they take him down for the plasma exchange."

She felt him contain the starts of a quiet sound of amusement.

"Clothes …," she said.

"Yea, that goes without saying," he said.

So she didn't say anymore. Even though it felt like there was so much that should be said but would remain left unsaid. It felt like they were in a moment where there just wasn't much to say. Because what could you say?

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**So I had some plans for this story and upcoming chapters in it but no one's really reading.**

**I was going to do:**

**-Brian/Munch/his mom and an Emmy appearance**

**-Liv/Tucker**

**-Jack/Renee**

**and Liv/Lindstrom**

**and then likely a Liv/Brian dealing with getting Christmas ready**

**and then end on Christmas morning with likely two chapters that day**

**So if I post anymore in this story it will likely jump around or ahead. Like straight to Christmas or something.**

**And I think I'll be starting a new story that's basically just a collection of O/S of the family. No chronology to it. Just random scenes in their life.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

Brian had to almost give himself a bit of a pep talk as he went up the couple front steps and opened the door to their home. He knew that there were going to be people wanting a rundown and debrief as soon as he got in the door. And he didn't really feel like he had any of the details they wanted. Fuck, he hardly had any of the details he wanted.

So he took his time fumbling around with the keys. Making it seem like the few things Liv had asked him to pick up on the way home was some kind of bulking, awkward load. And it really wasn't. It was the weight of the day was making it hard to get that door open. But he did. Just like he always did. And took a bit of a breath as he stepped through and keyed at the alarm pad and threaded open the laces of his boots and yanked off his leather jacket.

He briefly considered keeping it on. Sending some kind of message that he only intended to be in-and-out. But that might be a lie. Truth was he really didn't know how long he'd stay. A couple hours or more. Until morning? He didn't know. He did know he wanted to be back to the hospital by about 8 a.m. That he likely wanted to be there sooner so that he could try to encourage Liv to sleep.

Brian knew Liv wouldn't sleep until someone else was there to stare at Ben and the numbers on his machines. That the nurses coming in and checking on him through the night wouldn't be enough. And that she'd fight through the exhaustion that was just radiating off her at this point.

Liv already hadn't exactly been sleeping with the fucking case SVU had caught. With this – with Ben - she was going to run herself into the ground if he didn't have someone telling her to turn it off. To turn off. To fucking sleep.

Thing was she didn't have anyone in front of her to give her orders anymore. And fucking One PP sure wasn't going to be handing down that order right now with the fucking massacre of a judge's family at the top of the caseload pile. Especially when it was starting to look like the fucking judge had been a kiddie diddler with his own fucking kids. And that it'd gone too far for too long and the oldest kid fucking lost it on him and apparently the whole fucking family. Or something. Who knew how much they'd fucking ever really know. It was going to be what the lawyer for the surviving kids coached them into saying. Or whatever clues and truths – and half-truths and lies – that SVU and CSU and the ME's office were able to piece together. And then what the District Attorney's, Mayor's Office and One PP decided was ever actually going to leak out into public knowledge. The way this story got painted. It was already getting spun and painted enough by the media and the fucking social media. This shit made good enough headlines. It made a fucking Shakespearean level tragedy when it all goes down just before the holidays. That's the stuff legends are made of.

So the new Deputy Chief Liv answered to likely wasn't going to be telling her to stand down either. To hit the rack for a few hours. To acknowledge that unionized government workers – whatever level and whatever office – only moved (fuck, only could move) so fast over the holidays no matter what the case was. So there was really only so much Liv and her crew could be doing – or solving – so fast. So maybe Garland would just fucking tell her to take the time with her sick kid. To take the couple days over the holiday period she'd booked off to have with her family. You could hope that Garland was a parent too – a father too. And as much as he had to prove with labels like 'youngest' and 'black' and 'new' and 'outsider' – that he'd have some kind of empathy for her and tell her to take a beat. That things would roll on without her.

Not that Liv would ever accept that, though. Ever. So it was on Brian to try to get her to slow down and to take care of herself. To just fucking sleep. To fucking eat. Not that Liv did real good at listening to him either. And taking orders from him was a no-go entirely.

About the most Brian could do was to try to set up things so it was as easy as possible for her to take a break and to take care of herself. To get her to understand – in the heat of the moment – that her taking time to care of herself was sometimes the fucking best way she could take care of everyone around her.

But it was a hard lesson to learn. And even after you learned it, it was hard to consistently implement it in your life.

Brian knew that. Like, fuck, right now he was more even doing what he was doing to take care of other people before himself. He was a slow-learner – or an outright hypocrite when it came to this stuff too.

Always taking care of others before himself. To vics. To his family. To his family that sometimes seemed like they were always the vics.

Vics in a family that fucking refused to acknowledge victimhood. A family that batted around the term 'survivor' and 'fighter' and 'perseverance' and 'resilient'. And sometimes he really wondered how much of that was just lying to themselves so they could all keep on going.

"Cassidy, about time you're here," Munch greeted him from the couch as soon as he stepped into the living space. "I have been stuck watching more hours of My Littlest Pony than I knew were in existence."

Brian allowed an amused sound at that. Leave it to Johnny to know how to lighten the mood instantly.

"I'm starting to think the medical pot they hand out is stronger than I thought. I'm also pretty sure there are some sort of subliminal messaging going on in this cartoon," Munch said, moving his eyes back to the screen.

"You're not that stoned, Johnny. The message is the fucking toy company wants you to go out and get your Munchkin a pony-shaped hunk of plastic," Brian said, trudging across the room. He gave the kitchen a glance. "Hey, Ma," he nodded.

"Hi, Brian …," she smiled weakly at him. He could tell she was doing that real measuring up of him. Had that look painted all over her. Making her presumptions and drawing her own conclusions already.

"Smells great in here," he told her. "Like Christmas."

"Your daughter has been baking for you," she said.

"Oh, yea?" he allowed, moving to the island and dumping off the rolls of Christmas paper and some of the random crap for stockings that Jack apparently hadn't been able to find but that he'd just grabbed in pretty much one foul swoop at the fucking CVS. "Looks like she's a regular Keebler Elf."

His mom glanced at the contents of the bag as it fell partially open. The giant, alien slugs in some sort of green test tube were plainly visible. Just waiting for the kids to crack them open and take a plastic scalpel to them to start ripping out their insides and digging through their oozing glue in search of some kind of random little plastic toys … likely of more aliens.

"Well, are grotesque," his Ma commented.

"They're highly educational," he said.

"Oh … they look it …,". Sarcasm.

"Practice dissection," he provided. "Goo and guts and innards."

"Very Christmas-y …," Janet muttered, giving him a bit of a look.

"Liv's idea," he nodded at her. "The kids will love them."

That just got a 'mmm'. The 'mmm' that said his Ma loved being a grandma but that sometimes these children baffled her. But she wasn't alone in that.

He just gave her a little smile and pressed a kiss against the side of her head. That always got a smile out of her too. And he perused the selection of what looked like mostly the easy-peasy (fucking messy) melt-and-drop cookies they did with the kiddos. Apparently some had cooled and hardened enough, his Ma had already started to put some in containers.

"Think you're baking for a District, Ma," Brian muttered.

That's likely was probably how it was going to work out. Because it sure didn't sound like they were going to be home by Christmas or be having too many people through their home over the holiday period. There was no way any of them could eat all these cookies. Or should be eating all these cookies. Could they even eat any of these cookies? Somehow doubt Mrs. Claus and her Helper Elf had gone gluten-free, dairy-free, refined-sugar free on much of any of this. So a lot of it would probably be getting dragged into the 16th.

"Well, things kind of evolved after a certain someone decided they needed to make their own dreidel," she said, looking across the room at John.

"Yea, I forgot about that," he said, giving Munch a glance. "How'd your first Crazy Night go with Em?"

"How it went was another someone was no help in the making or baking of this craft project."

"What kid wants to be baking homemade playdough when they could just be getting right to stuffing themselves full of chocolate gelt they want with Mom and Dad out of the house?" John said.

Brian smiled a little and gave his head a shake, looking directly at John. "You've met Emmy, right, Munchie Munch?"

John just made an exasperate sound and looked back to the TV screen. He did look a little stoned. Bleary-eyed. But maybe he was just beyond fucking exhausted too.

Brian reached for some of the Church Window peanut butter-marshmallow fudge squares already cooled and in a container. But his knuckles got rapped by his Ma.

"Ow, geez, Ma," he gaped at her. "What's that all about? You've got enough here to feed an army."

"Have you put anything else in your belly today?" she nodded at him directly. Total Mom tone and total Mom look. Fucking terrifying that she still pulled that shit when he was pushing 50 years old.

Brian just gave a slightly annoyed shake of the head. And he still reached and took a square – looking directly at her while he took his first bite.

She gave him beyond unimpressed eyes and shook her head too. "You're like a little boy."

"Liv's third child," Johnny called from the couch.

"Yea, she'd likely agree with you," Brian muttered and moved back toward where John was sitting.

"Stay out of the rest of them, Brian," his Ma ordered behind him. "Your little girl is very proud she made her Daddy's favorite. Don't have her waking up to half them gone."

He gave her a look. "I eat one, Ma."

She tilted her head. Fuck. He hated when she did that. Because he knew exactly where he'd picked it up from. And he knew both of his kids were already picking up on that fucking mannerism too. Mirror, Mirror …

"And I've seen you eat one tray in one sitting more than one time," she stated directly.

He shook his head and exhaled, turning again to close the gap to John. He stood next to him for a long moment staring at the cartoon too. One of Emmy's favorites. It wasn't high on anyone else's list in their household. But apparently she had her grand-parent people tied around her baby finger better than she did him, her mom or her big brother when it came to TV viewing.

"Why are you watching it if it's got you tripping out?" Brian muttered, as he finished the last bite of the square. Fucking delicious. Too fucking bad the smackdown had been set about putting a dent in them. Though, likely for the best. Because not only had he not eaten shit that day – but that was likely about the most sugar his body had got in one go in months. On an empty stomach.

Johnny wagged the remote at him. "Because I'd to awaken your little egghead to operate this remote."

Brian looked at him. Looked at the remote. Looked at the TV. "She's got it on Netflix."

"She's got it on My Littlest Pony Friendship is Magical," John said with a gesture. "I'm fairly certain someone from my generation developed this show. Presumably while on LSD."

Brian snagged the remote from his hand. "Wrong remote, Johnny," he said. He bent to retrieve the little Apple TV remote that was among a cluster of Emmy's plastic bug toys and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer playset. He'd almost like to know what the hell kind of game she had going on there. Rudolph and the Island of Bugs Bigger than Him? Sounded like they could pitch and sell that one. Get out the phone and start shooting some stop-motion. "Right remote," he wagged the device at him.

John stared at it. "And how was I supposed to know that miniscule piece of metal was a remote? I thought it was Randolph the Misshapen Asian Long-Horned Beetle's toboggan."

Brian allowed a small sound of amusement. Maybe Johnny had some insight on what the storyline of the playtime was.

He switched the top box off and watched their actually cable TV fill the screen. It was on his sports channel. Right where he left it. And he let himself sit down next to John and stare at it for a moment.

"Well, I don't want to watch this either," John said.

Brian just made a little listening sound. A 'give me a sec' sound. He let his body – mind – get into that zone state. To try to start decompressing. He watched the ticker go on the bottom of the screen.

"This definitely is not a magical friendship," Johnny added.

That got a bit of a laugh from his Ma over in the kitchen. Brian heard that and looked up at her to see her giving John a little smile.

It was a mixed bag. He was glad his Ma and Johnny got along OK. But sometimes it felt a little like they got along too well. Didn't need his Ma being one of Johnny's last conquests.

"I'd rather watch the rainbow-fairy miniature horses than these rainbow-phobic ogres beat each other with sticks," John argued.

It got another quiet laugh.

"Here," Brian said and tapped the remote against the other man's knee.

John took it and examined the buttons way too close. Drawing the thing right up to be held in front of his eyes. But still looking down his nose at them like the bifocals didn't work in the frames at all.

Brian smiled a little. And he looked at him. Really looked at him. Johnny had really been there for him and Liv that year. Really. With all this Big Man lupus shit. With all this him working through his fucking childhood secret. With all his figuring out how to be a man and father and partner in all that. Finally. Overdue. Figuring out if, when, how to propose to Liv now and if he actually meant it. Figuring out marriage – as much as John hadn't had any real success in that part of his life. Just working through life. Been there in a whole different way than his Ma or Cragen and his lady friend. Been there even with this shit going on in his own life. Knowing that he only had so much time left. But maybe that was the why of it.

Made him feel a little … like something was in his eye again. Just like there had been all day. And he swiped at his face a bit.

"You going blind on me, Old Man," Brian said. And he leaned over, sliding the remote out of Johnny's grip – but putting a brief kiss there in his hair on the side of his head too.

Brief. Back to sitting straight and staring at the TV, starting to flick channels in an instant. Though he could feel John looking at him. Could feel his Mom – still over there working on waiting for a tray of actually bakable cookies to come out of the oven and putting the rest of the cookies and baking supplies away – looking at him.

"Going soft on me, Yippie Skippy?" John said flatly.

Brian made a quiet amused sound and cast him a look. "There's some kind of 'that's what she said' joke in there."

"Well, I certainly hope that's not what she said," John said. "And, such jokes, are certainly unacceptable for some of Manhattan's finest SVU detectives to be making. And incredibly tone deaf in today's society."

"Since when you worried about being politically correct, Johnny?"

Munch shrugged a bit, crossing his arms. "One must forever work at improving thyself, even in one's 'old age'."

Brian rolled his eyes a little at that but gave him another brief glance.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" John quipped.

Brian just shrugged. "Just … thanks for watching Ducky for me today," he said.

"Well, I had lots of help," John said and nodded over at his Ma.

Brian gave her a small smile. She smiled back at him. And he swiped at his eyes again, wiping them against his elbow.

"Yea. When did Cragen and Eileen take off?" he asked.

"After dinner," his Ma said. "Eileen made chicken and dumplings that your daughter refused to eat."

"I believe her assessment was that it not only looked like snot, that it tasted like boogers too," John provided.

Brian did let out a real laugh and a real smile at that. But he had to look down because he felt his eyes watering. They both must've seen. Because Johnny's hand landed on his shoulder and stayed there.

"Not to fret," he said. "She picked out the peas and ate them with much colorful commentary. They were the dried, green boogies, I believe."

Brian tried to laugh. But he knew it was a bit of a sob. He could feel the way it caught coming out of him. And he was sure John felt it – if not heard it – too.

"So there's lots of leftovers, if you intend to eat something that isn't just sweets," his Ma said. "I can package some up for you to take for Olivia too."

He nodded. "Yea, thanks, Ma," he said.

But he knew his voice had really betrayed him that time. So he stayed hunched with his elbows on his knees and staring at the ground to hide just how much it had.

"Are you staying the night?" his mom asked.

"Umm, maybe," he said. "Yea. I mean, I just came to check up on Em. And pick up some more stuff – clothes – for Liv and Ben. My work bag, computer," he glanced over at where he usually dropped it, just inside the front foyer. But it wasn't there.

That was Liv. Their fucking dining room table could be covered in fucking craft supplies and markers and slime and science experiment materials. Fucking homework could be spread all across the kitchen island – leaving no room to fucking cook. Fucking Hot Wheels and Lego and action figures and little plastic replicas of insects and sealife and safari animals and skateboards and army men could be all over their living room coffee table. Picture books and reference books full of colourful photos and comics and graphic novels could be spread all over their floor like a fucking tornado had gone through the New York Public Library. But it was his duffle with his work clothes, files and laptop being set down at the far-end of their living space that was Liv's pet peeve. It was that that she always moved on him.

And that must've been painted all over his face. And his Mom must've heard him and Liv bicker and pick at each other about it before. "I saw your work bag just inside the door of your walk-in closet when I saw helping Amanda pack some clothes for you this morning."

"Oh," he muttered. "OK … thanks."

And it hung there. And just stayed like that for a long moment. Somehow that was worse. It made it sting more. All this stupid shit they bickered about. And sometimes he didn't know if that made things better for them in getting through all this or worse. Sometimes he wondered if they talked or just fought. If they agreed on anything. If they agreed on this treatment for their child. Why the fuck it was him who was the one who was home? If he should even be there?

But then the news came on the TV. Blaring at the levels well above the usual mute that Brian ever watched them on. At least it gave him something to focus on to calm his train of thought. Until it wasn't.

They started covering Liv's case. A non-update disguised as an update for the masses.

He straightened slightly and turned off TV. "Can't watch that right now …"

It hung there.

"Liv's case?" John asked. Only it wasn't really an ask. So Brian only nodded.

"How is Olivia doing?" his Mom asked from the kitchen.

"Ah …," Brian allowed and straightened so he could see her. He gave a nod. But then he shook his head. "You know Liv. She can't turn it off. Any of it."

It hung there too. No one asked him what he meant by it. And no one challenged him on it. Told him he was wrong.

"She's holding it together," he said quietly. Flatly. Almost whispered. "Maybe better than me right now."

And that hung there too. Also a comment that didn't come with an argument from either of them.

"How's Benji?" his Ma asked instead.

He could tell she'd been restraining herself. She'd tried to give him some time before diving right into that one. But she deserved an answer. He knew that her – and everyone else – had been waiting for an update all day. More than what him and Liv had been texting out. Not that they really had a whole lot of info to be texting out anyway. But it likely seemed like they were withholding information.

"Ah …," he let out. And let it sit there while he composed himself and organized his thoughts. While he tried to remember the canned answers he'd come up with on the way home to try to get through this kind of interrogation as fast as possible.

"You know, he's hanging in. Tough guy," he said, and reached to give Johnny a little tap in the chest. "Goin' to be port buddies with you for a bit, Johnny." And he stopped and allowed a little nod again and looking at the floor. "Might need some guidance on that. Not sure me or Liv felt too confident or comfortable with the home-care reality of it," he said more honestly. And way more flatly.

"So he is coming home?" his Ma pressed.

"Umm, yea," Brian said.

"Tomorrow?" she hurried in. "He'll be home for Christmas?"

And Brain felt like the situation just kicked him in the chest again. Air knocked out of him. The lack of clarity. How much more fucked it was to deal with all that when it was at the holidays. When it was at the fucking holidays and you had one kid in the hospital. And when your other kid was just fucking six years old and should be in the prime of Christmas magic – and she was separated from her mom and dad and big brother.

The fucking hated it. All of this. The disease. The medications. The treatments. The hospitals. The doctors. The fact that no-one knew shit and no-one could tell you shit. It was all just some fucking big wait and see. Their whole fucking life had become that. Taking each day – each fucking hour – at a time.

How do you exist like that? Let alone fucking live like that?

How do you ask your two children to live like that?

But "We don't know when," was the answer he gave her. "Like at least a day or two more before that happens. Maybe more."

"How much more?" she asked.

He shook his head at her. "I don't know, Ma," he pushed back a bit more harshly than he'd meant to. He knew he had too because her face flinched and she looked back to her work in the kitchen – not at him. He sighed a bit. "Sorry …"

Munch squeezed at his shoulder.

Brian stared at the floor and pressed his fingers into his eyes. He fucking willed himself to hold it together.

Liv had sent him home to hold it together. Or to get it together. Or a bit of both. That's what he was supposed to be doing for her. And for Ben. And for Emmy. For his Mom and Johnny too. And he was fucking losing it again.

"It's still in flux," he managed to get out. "It's looking like he's just in a bad flare up of the lupus. With the neurological involvement going on with this one, they're going at it pretty seriously to get it under control. So when he comes home is going to depend on when they feel they've got it under control. How he responds to treatment. They got a port placed in him today. They're letting him – his nervous system – rest overnight. Then we're going to start some plasma … pher… esis … or something in the morning. It's a plasma exchange. They're gonna take his blood out of him and put it through some machine to take out the plasma and then put it back into him with some sort of mixture." He shook his head again and looked at the floor. "Emmy would likely understand the science of it and explain it better than me," he muttered. "But it's … it's basically trying to clean his blood. Remove the cells and antibodies that are causing the inflammation that cause the immune system to get confused and send his body attacking itself. I don't know. I haven't had a chance to really Dr. Google it yet. But his doc said basically hopefully he's only going to need like two or three goes at this over the next few days but it might be more like two weeks. So … I don't know. If he's responding to it well we might be able to do some of it out-patient. Take him in … each day or whatever."

He looked at his Ma. He expected her to say something or ask something. But she didn't. She did look real sad, though. And Brian had spent a lifetime hating the look on his mom's face. Doing his fucking damnedest to make sure he wasn't the cause of it. But he didn't think he'd ever done much of a good job on that.

"I'm gonna check on Em," he muttered.

He still sat a beat. Like they were going to argue with him about that again. But they didn't. Only thing he got was a shoulder squeeze from Johnny as he rose.

He treaded upstairs lightly. The house just felt wrong – empty – with knowing that Big Man was upstairs asleep too. Knowing that Liv wouldn't be coming home to him too that night. Even with his Ma and Johnny downstairs, it still felt like he was all alone.

He leaned on the doorjam outside the kids' room. Could see that Em had taken up space in Ben's bed. Could see too that she had the kid's stuffed dragon – clutching it real tight.

Must've been louder coming up the stairs than he thought. Or Emmy just had a sixth sense about these kinds of things. Because she was rolling over and staring at him.

"Daddy …?" she muttered all sleepy.

"Hey, Ducky," he smiled at her gently and moved over to the bedside, leaning his hip against it and looking down at her, stroking a bit at her cheek. Tucking some of her tangled her behind her ear for her so he could see that face of hers.

"Is Bubba comin' to bed?" she asked him.

He gave his head a little shake. "No, princess. Big Man has to sleep at the hospital again tonight."

She stared at him. "He's still sick?"

Brian nodded. But it stung. 'Still'. It wasn't just 'still'. It was 'always'. Ben would always be sick. And the docs kept talking about these plateaus of basically everything being hunky-dory with lupus – and then the flares. And maybe they'd sort of seen that. But it wasn't 'normal'. And it wasn't exactly hunky-dory either. It was still a life of daily medication and regular doctor and hospital visits and trying to teach a fucking 11-year-old the concept of 'spoon theory' and reserving and delegating his energy where it was needed. Never knowing what one day held to the next. Never being able to set any kind of real plans. Always this nagging worry. Wondering … if you thought too much about the future. But this disease hardly let them think about the next hours. Ben being OK could quickly change to utterly exhausted. In utter pain. Or fucking seizing on a restaurant floor.

"He's still sick," Brian allowed, though. "But he's feeling better than he was last night."

Em looked at him with those eyes that had stole his heart when she was just a little baby. The eyes that pretty much ended the argument – the anger – he'd had at Liv with her moving ahead with the guardianship without so much as talking to him about it. It's fucking amazing how much your kid's eyes could speak to you. And how much judgement – how deep of a soul – was there behind them. The kind of mirror they were.

"They givin' him med-eh-sin?"

He nodded and ran his finger down her cheek again. "They are and hopefully he's goin' to be home real soon."

"He does-int have F-ame," she said and held the dragon out slightly at him. "I have him."

"I see that," Brian said, giving her earlobe a little tug. It got a small smile out of her and he smiled down at her too. "And I know Ben's missing Flame and his Ducky."

A little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I miss him and you and Mommy too …"

"I know," Brian acknowledged. "But, today you got to play with Aunt Amanda and Jesse and Billie, right?"

"Jah …"

"And Captain Cragen and Nana Eileen and Gramma and Unkie Munchie …"

"Jah …," she sighed. "But I wah-ther play with Bubba. And you and Mommy."

He could feel his eyes glassing a bit again. "I know, sweet pea. We'd all rather be home playing with you too."

"Is Mommy home?"

He shook his head and wagged the Dragon's head at her a bit – darting him toward her and having the toy tap her on the nose. "I think it'd be pretty scary to have to sleep in the hospital all alone, right?"

"I guess …," she sigh.

"Yea …," Brian acknowledge, internally sighing on his own. "So Mommy stayed to keep Bubba company. Keep all the monsters away for him since Flame's here with you."

Em rubbed her cheek against Flame's head. "He keep 'em away pretty good."

"He's a pretty dependable dragon," Brian said.

Em looked at him more seriously. "Daddy, did Bubba send you to get F-ame?"

"Mmm …," Brian sighed a bit. "You know, Ducky, I think your brother would really like to have Flame with him tomorrow. But I came home to see you. And I'm sure Ben would be real glad that you're taking care of Flame for him tonight and that Flame's taking care of you. Keeping the monsters away."

"You're good at takin' care of me and keepin' monster away too, Daddy," Em said.

He gave he a weak smile at that. He wasn't sure how good he was at that or anything else – taking care of his family. Maybe it was one and the same.

"I try my best …"

"You're good," Em said.

And he felt the tears pooling against too. He gave her a little nod and squeezed at her elbow a bit. "Thanks, Em. I really needed to hear that."

She gazed at him a bit but then sat up in the bed and reached to hug him. He wrapped his arms around her too and held her.

"Don't cry, Daddy," she said.

He stroked at the rat-nest mess on the back of her head. He knew then he'd be staying until morning – because he was the only one Emmy let brush out the tangles without screaming bloody murder. Because he was needed there in that moment just as much as he was needed at the hospital – by Ben and Liv.

"I'm trying not to," he said.

"Bubba will be OK," she said. "He always is. Be-cause of med-ick-all sci-ence. And be-cause he very strong in head and heart and mind and body. Like a fux-wolf."

He pressed a little kiss in the crown of her head.

"Like a super hero."

He smiled. "I'll give him that at least he's a super big bubba and son," Brian said.

"Jah," Em said. "And lupus just his super villan. Dah good guys always win even when it looks like they won't. Then they do."

He backed from her a bit and held her tiny face in his hands. "I think we've been letting you watch too much Marvel Cinematic Universe movies."

She shrugged at him. "Maybe."

He let himself laugh. A little. But it was real.

"Daddy, you want me and F-ame to 'leep with you tonight? We can scare away the monsters for you."

He exhaled a bit. But then he nodded. He might not sleep. But he'd rather not sleep and stare at this other little person he was fighting to have a life for.

"Sounds like a plan …," he said. To her? To himself?

And he reached to hoist her up to his hip and tuck her into her Mom's side of the bed. He went around to the other side – laying on top of the covers, still in the clothes that felt heavy from the load of the day at the hospital. And by the time he looked back to his daughter, she'd curled onto her side again, Flame clutched tight and her eyes closed.

And Brian hoped he could find it in him to find sleep that easily. He reached and flicked off the bedside light. And he stared into the darkness – while trying not to let it and all his worries and fears take over.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**So I still don't know if I'm going to continue writing this story. For the same reasons as the previous chapter today stated — there really aren't many readers. There's even fewer comments, reviews and feedback.**

**Beyond that — people clearly feel the story is too much of a downer.**

**So maybe I'll write something that's in a 'happier' moment of their lives. But, yeah, I'm not going to go back and rewrite the story so Benji doesn't have lupus.**

**I still might do the story that's just a collection of O/S. Again, it'd just be random moments from their lives. No chronology. It'd likely just be random ideas that I think would be fun to write or would make a good scene or be an interesting conversation for certain characters to have or a good moment or situation to explore. I have some ideas in that realm. It's easier to make them random O/S than to try to write up to them and/or incorporate them into a story.**

**I will to write things when I feel like writing them. And if I get bored or frustrated or feel like I'm having to write and write to get to something … it gets meh.**

**This site (or at least my AU fic, which I understand has a less popular pairing or even a hated one) doesn't seem to get much traffic anymore. So that takes some of the motivation away to share here.**

**You'll have to see in the coming days or weeks if anything more gets posted. I might play with my idea for the Liv/Tucker chapter after I see this week's episode. People need to remember in this AU Liv would've never had a relationship with Tucker so their dynamic would be different than the show. Where I was planning to go with the Liv/Tucker scene in this story might work better as a random O/S. **

**Similarly what I'm hoping to do with Jack — rather than writing and writing to get to it — it might be better to just have some random scenes with him set a bit in the future.**

**It really depends. I tend to take breaks when the writing is no longer 'fun'.**

**If you have thoughts on the kinds of scenes, moments, experiences or character interactions you'd like to see - you're welcome to DM them (or leave a comment). I do consider them and in the past have written requested/suggested scenes.**

**I may rally and jump a little ahead to write the one or two Christmas morning chapters to try to end this on a 'happier' note for people who like those 'happily ever after' endings. I guess I should think of a cool Christmas present for Benji ... or decide if Liv would actually relent on letting him have a Nerf blaster/toy gun. Or if an 11-year-old with only one friend really needs/wants a toy that's designed for group play. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: Twas the Night Before**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy navigate their work-lives and family life with their two young children as the holidays are upon them. But the stress of both responsibilities and priorities mount and they struggle to find a difficult work-life balance as a couple, cops and parents. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time AU.**

********CHAPTER 8 and 9 WERE POSTED ON THE SAME DAY. YOU MIGHT WANT TO CHECK YOU DIDN'T MISS ONE OR BOTH OF THEM.******

Olivia glanced up from the multi-layered balancing act she had going on. Her laptop on her knee, case flies open and sherwn across the available space on the narrow couch, and her phone resting on the armrest nearly vibrating off it with every new alert that came in. Then she was also balancing checking in on Benji and his quiet, concentrate coloring in the bed next to her and Jim Carrey's embodiment of The Grinch up on the screen.

Benji – a boy still after her heart – maintained that the movie wasn't as good as classic 1966 animation. A assertion that awed him almost as much as her, because he was always sure to add: "It's so good! And it was made even before you were born! So it's so old!" Thank you, Benji.

But as much as he seemed displeased with the first 21st century attempt at capturing the magic of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, he still allowed that it was better than the previous year's atrocity that even Benedict Cumberbatch couldn't save.

Olivia was actually pretty sure Benji still held it against her that they'd 'wasted!' seeing their Christmas break movie that Gramma always gave them gift cards for seeing that. It'd been her suggestion, thinking it was family entertainment, a festive classic for the holidays and completely age appropriate for both her kids. But she didn't think Benji would ever let her live down that "YOU MADE US USE OUR GIFT CARDS ON THAT!"

If Gramma had that under the tree for them again this year – as usual – she was definitely keeping out of it. Though, Benji had already asserted he wanted to use "my part of the gift card to see Star Wars". She wasn't sure she was looking forward to that in any way. There had been hope that their family might somehow dodge the Star Wars mania. Like the Harry Potter hoopla – the kids only seemed so interested at this point. But then middle school started and Benji's little Fortnite-playing, Nerf-blasting friend also happened to be a Star Wars nut (or at least a Nerf Star Wars blaster and plastic lightsaber welding nut … she was noticing a slightly concerning trend there that she was still weighing how much she wanted her own child participating in). Taylor had been quick to point out that there was a 'Ben Kenobi' in Star Wars who was a Master Jedi … or something … , which apparently was enough to win her son over.

The never-ending list of movies and animated series had started to be his votes on their Sunday Munch to the Movies afternoons. Thankfully, he didn't always get the majority of the votes on that one. His little sister who usually always thought anything Big Bubba liked was the coolest thing ever had vocally and repeatedly declared of some of the movies 'DIS IS SOOOOOOOOOO BORRRRRRRRRRING!'

Olivia had to agree. She actually thought Star Wars – despite it's transparent 'heroic journey' literary storytelling - might rank lower on her list of franchises to endure through your child's childhood than the Marvel super hero characters. (Some of those movies were actually kind of fun – she hated to admit.) Though, possibly higher than Ninja Turtles or Transformers. Movies – not TV series. But that would really depend on the day and the movie.

She wasn't surprised Benji had vocal opinions about the Grinch. Or the cinematography around bringing its characters to life. Ever since he was a little boy – like he wasn't little anymore … when he was – he'd been fascinated with the silly rhymes and the sillier drawings of Dr. Seuss. She could see some of those early influences already appearing in the styling of Benji's art. His eye for it and the characters he invented. The characterizing and styling in her son's drawings had only increased since their trip to Universal. They'd managed to fit in a couple hours in Seuss Landing at the park. There'd be some huffing and puffing and moaning and groaning from the kids (Brian included) about it being the toddler area and not worth their time. But it definitely had been. Again, the immersive nature of the area was like they were stepping right into the storybooks, and the kids had quickly become enthralled with exploring. Olivia could tell that Benji was truly examining – with more of an artist's eye than a casual onlooker in awe – the colors and lines in all the buildings and statues and characters all around them. Many of Seuss' stories were still on high rotation at story-time when a picture book was being selected over a couple chapters in their latest novel. And they were always selected – only selected – when she was the story-reader that night. Apparently Brian's voice didn't suit Dr. Seuss' writing. Olivia wouldn't argue with that.

What did surprise her was just how alert and chatty he seemed that evening. He'd come through his first plasma exchange well. He'd had some light-headedness and tingling in his mouth, fingers and nose early in the treatment had freaked him – and her and Brian – out a bit. But a milky calcium drink and his position being adjusted to being supine had rather quickly resolved those problems. And it seemed better than Benji sitting in a chair with the one line going into his chest and the other into his arm and his wide eyes staring at the machine suck out and spinning his blood clean, separating the plasma and pumping an artificial replacement substance back into him.

Benji had more intelligent questions for the nurse about how it all worked and what the machine was doing and drawing his own scientific inferences than her or Brian had managed. He'd directly informed them, "It's just basically a centrifuge." And it somehow gave her hope about how her little boy would get through this. And increased some level of confidence in her parenting too. In the move and the manoeuvring and all the testing and IEP and educational status and diversity in the classroom initiatives they'd navigated to get him into the Math and Science Middle School. He was in the right place. And they were in the right place now. Or so she was telling herself.

Benji had become very fatigued during the treatment. But they'd been warned about that and told it was 'normal'. As 'normal' as any of this was. Logically, it made sense, a steady amount of blood was being removed from her son's body – even if it was just as steadily being put back in. The doctor said it was a 'small amount' at a time being processed. But then compared it to 'no more than a mug of coffee', which didn't sound like her definition of a 'small amount' at any one time. Not when her son was already small for his age and underweight. Though, she also logically knew she'd dealt with victims and emergency situations were there was a whole lot more blood loss occurring than that. But those people weren't her child.

Benji had slept through most of the treatment. Her and Brian had sat there staring at him and the machines around him for about the first two hours of treatment – looking for any signs things were going astray. Signs of an allergic reaction or another seizure. Or outright terror and anxiety in their child. But there hadn't been. He'd just slept and slept in the partially cordoned off-area where the thin curtain pulled around the three of them had done little to cut out the noise of the other children and their families being treated in the open ward. So eventually, her and Brian had settled into picking through work obligations – responding to emails and texts and phone calls.

The little boy slept straight through the rest of the treatment and being unhooked from the machine. He'd barely opened his eyes to get transported back to his room and had closed his eyes again immediately after he was in bed and the covers around him. They'd only opened when kitchen staff were beginning to clatter around the hallway of their ward bringing around dinner. He'd happily taken the dinner tray and eaten the hospital food far better than he'd eaten any of the dinners that had been put in front of him at home for weeks … if not months. He'd tucked away the rosemary chicken, sauté spinach and roasted potato cubes like he was starving. And he likely was – beyond his food intake having been severely limited and regulated for the better part of 48-hours, he also would never have taken a dinner like that at home with at least comment about the spinach, if not outright refusing to eat anything but a chicken leg with a slathering of hot sauce, not rosemary.

After he'd finished eating, he'd wanted the TV on and his coloring and sketch pad accessible and he'd quickly become absorbed in all that – intermittently offering them little Benji-isms. Commentary and comedy. It was like … they had their little boy back. Like they had a whole new boy compared to the way Benji had been dragging himself around for most of December.

And that gave Olivia hope too. The doctor had told her that they generally saw 65 to 70 per cent improvement in patients after their first plasma exchange, if the patient was able to successfully tolerate the treatment and they'd been able to remove an appropriate amount of plasma and rid it of the anti-bodies and proteins that were confusing the immune system. She had to believe that Benji must be in the group where this treatment had helped him turn the corner. But she also felt like maybe she was waiting for another show to drop.

They had missed their doctor's rounds while they were down for Benji's treatment. That was poorly planned timing on the hospital's part. But she'd been told Benji's physician was still in the hospital and that her son's file had been flagged, so he'd likely still stop by before leaving for the night.

They'd done a blood draw on Benji near the end of the treatment but nothing yet since. Olivia wasn't clear on if there would be another one that night – or not until morning or into the next day. So she was rather anxiously awaiting getting some feedback on where their son was at – not just in appearances but according to scientific, medical evidence. She wanted to get some clarity from the doctor on what his plan of care was.

Would Benji need several treatments? Would they happen consecutively over the next few days? Would they be spread out over the next two or three weeks? Would this be in-patient? Or had he rebounded well enough that it could be out-patient? Could they take their little boy home tomorrow and have him home with his sister and grandparents for Christmas?

So her hope they wouldn't have to wait until the morning – or the afternoon – of Christmas Eve to have some of those answer. Her had been that it was the doctor who was coming into their room when she looked over. And she was sure her face fell a bit when she saw it was Jack. She knew it had because his face changed.

"Umm ... hey," he offered.

But she gave him a little smile. Or she tried for on and worked on moving the open files she had all over the couch on the expectation that he'd be sitting and staying a while.

"Hi, sweetheart …" she allowed.

Benji pulled his eyes away from his shading and intermittent glances at the movie to look at his uncle. It was an unsure and shy look. But that had become the standard between the two of them. Olivia often felt like Benji looked a little bit like a dog that expected to be kicked. The look wasn't so different from the one that often painted across Jack's face too when he first came home.

The fact Jack was now the cause of the same look on her child had taught her … a lot about the large radius of the cycle of abuse and violence and its long-term implications. The learned behavior didn't just have to be physical. And it sometimes wrenched her stomach. It made her revisit and reflect on her past and Brian's past and the abuse and violence and abandonment there combined with genetics. A cycle – and its implications – that she often questioned herself. One that made her wonder her fitness as a mother. Just like she knew it made Brian wonder about his fitness as a father and a partner and a husband and a lover.

But it was different watching it happen between Benji and Jack. It was harder. There were times where she was ready to say "no more". That fall she'd come very close to it. She'd put all of them off in their separate corners and imposed a bit of a break. She'd hoped it would get Jack to snap out of it a bit. And in some ways it had. She was slowly seeing improvement in him in the past five or six weeks. But it wasn't going to be some switch where things just went back to 'normal'. She wasn't sure things ever really would. Some of the damage might be done.

"Hey, Jami-, Ben," he self-corrected and walked toward his nephew's bed. "How you feelin'?"

Benji just gave him a little shrug and went back to concentrating on his coloring.

"You look a whole heck of a lot better than Saturday," Jack said. "Yesterday morning too."

Benji just gave him a glance.

"He's been very brave," Olivia provided on Benji's behalf. "And his plasma exchange – the procedure seemed to go really well. We're waiting for his doctor to come by."

Jack gave a little nod. She could tell he was taking stock of how Benji looked. He did look a little pale – but apparently that was normal. Though, it made the butterfly rash across his cheeks a bit more prominent than it was at times. And with the way he was sitting cross-legged on the bed, though he had a zip-up hoodie on, it was hanging open and the neckline of his hospital gown was hanging rather low. Olivia was sure Jack could see the clear bandaging and adhesive around the tubing that was coming out of Benji's chest. Tubing that was likely going to stay there for at least a while.

Jack shifted his eyes to look at the picture Benji was working on. "That's pretty rad," he offered. "You turning into a tagger?"

Benji gave him another glance. "Taggers vandalize. It's different from real graffiti. It's street art."

Jack gave him a weird little smile. "Sounds like Broolyn's getting to you. But think you're living in the wrong part to be all edu-ma-cated on all that."

It got a shrug.

But maybe it deserved that. Brian's idea of a perfect Sunday Fun-Day still remained investing in café coffee (and whatever two little people were able to pull at Daddy's heart-strings to get them from in the pastry cabinet) and going for a long walk until they ended up in some park watching the kids. They'd wandered around enough Brooklyn neighborhoods that they'd spent a lot of time looking at the street art and murals of various artist collectives in their borough. It might not be Olivia's preferred way to view art – or even her definition of art – but she could certainly appreciate the talent and the time some of the graffiti entailed. And it definitely captured both the kids' imaginations. They had their favorites. They got excited when they spotted new favorite characters or wall-sized paintings that left their eyes as wide as saucers. They'd come upon artists working on their murals a couple times and had ended up standing there for the better part of two hours watching and the kids peppering them with questions when they came down their ladders. Other times they'd see a work in progress and they'd make a point to talk their walk back around the same route so they could see how it continued to come together in following weeks.

More than once her and Brian had batted around the idea of playing tourist in their own city and signing up the family for a either the one of the super hero or street art walking tours or scavenger hunts. But Brian always decided he wasn't going to subject himself to the non-locals in that way and that they could do just as well – if not better – from their in-the-know work at beat cops (that was now decades old) and Google. So, needless to say, they hadn't yet had either 'tour' in any capacity. Organized or not.

"You ink all that?" Jack tried again. "You're getting real good."

It got another look from Benji. This one was more annoyed. "It's just a coloring sheet. Mom got them for me. She always does."

"Oh …," Jack allowed and cast her a look. And Olivia gave him a little shrug.

Benji had another point. Jack likely should've been able to tell it was a coloring sheet. He probably could, actually. Jack had been trying a little too hard lately to force forward conversation and relate to his nephew. Benji was at least back on speaking terms with him but the tension was still apparent. Olivia could see it was like pulling teeth. But she rarely stepped in unless she could tell it was truly going sideways and she'd be left to deal with the fallout. This was Jack's mess and he had to figure out how to fix it. And it was a mess that never would've happened if he'd just given his niece and nephew some time. And had he been home and spending any time with his family over the past year, it would've known that the style of coloring sheets had become a regular staple in their house for the better part of two years now.

The coloring sheets were currency and regularly used as a motivator – if not an outright bribe – to get Benji to work on his homework. A finished Math or spelling sheet for a new coloring sheet. It didn't always work. It really depended on Benji's state of mind or how much he felt like fighting about homework on a particular night. Or how 'stupid' he felt or decided he was on a particular night. Sometimes screen-time was a better motivator. Or rather – losing screen-time was a better motivator.

Brian wasn't a fan for her using the coloring sheets – or really any kind of treat – as a motivator. But he tended to be more patient than her with the homework help. But they had different approaches there too. She actually sat with Benji and Emmy and just wanted to get it done as quickly as possible and without a fight. Brian didn't sit with them – claiming he wasn't going to babysit them. He just barked at them until they got started and then made sure their butts stayed in the chairs until they showed him it was done. She wasn't sure who's approach really worked better. She knew that it had definitely caused some meltdowns with Benji in grade school as the homework load started to increase and his learning difficulties started to become more apparent. Making him sit at a table without help for hours after he'd been at school for hours was just asking for a fight and an eventually exhausted and frustrated meltdown. Olivia was usually exhausted and frustrated enough when she got home from work that that wasn't her idea of how to spend the evening. Though, she'd also learned she hadn't exactly inherited any of her mother's aptitude for teaching. Not that she thought her mother really 'taught' Literature at the college level. It was more being a faculty member provided her with a safe excuse to bury herself in books and their alternate worlds while hiding as much as possible in the back of her office with as little human contact as her could manage.

Brian felt that rather than handing out coloring sheets – or outings for ice cream or the dessert-picker designation of any given Sunday – that finishing homework should be up on the fridge's matrix of chores and responsibilities the kids had. Another thing he was usually critical of – but again, he was quick to us it in his style of discipline and parenting with the kids. Homework was up on the board but it was just a general task in the whole week. Brian's feeling was that every night Benji didn't do his homework he should take an allowance hit – just like he would for not completing any other chore or responsibility.

Olivia's problem with that was that Benji not completing his homework was so much more complex than him simply not wanting to sit down and do his homework. And because of that there were a ton of emotional issues and self-worth and self-esteem issues attached to it. She didn't want him starting to realize at 11 that not overcoming his dyslexia might have implications on the kind of income he might be bringing in it his life. There were other ways to motivate him to overcome his challenges that didn't involve his allowance.

It was on the list of things her and Brian regularly had back-and-forth about. Though, some of that had calmed with the IEP and Middle School. So far. Everyone's expectations had been adjusted. It was making things a bit easier. They had enough to deal with.

They had this to deal with. But some how worrying about when and how to give the kids coloring sheets seems a lot easier. Actually, how Benji and Jack were getting a long seemed easier too in the moment. It was almost a distraction from the rest of the day – even if it was frustrating in its own right.

"Well, you're still filling it in real good. Looks pretty sweet," Jack said of the picture.

Benji gave him another look. "It's for Ducky. For Christmas. She likes insects," he added of the honeycomb design and the rather atomically accurate bees that were weaving around the graphic.

"Oh, yea," Jack stared a bit. "What happened to sharks and narwhals? That done?"

It got another annoyed look from Benji. Olivia rubbed her eyebrow a bit and decided to break it up. It was probably best not to get Benji too wound up when he was still recovering. She didn't want to lose any progress when it looked like he'd made some. At least with his flare – if not with Jack.

"She still likes them too," she said. "Any living thing is a fairly safe bet."

Again, it depended on the day. And, Benji was right that his little sister seemed to be moving into a bit of a creepy crawly phase. But that could change again tomorrow. Emily was so random.

Olivia had talked to her little girl earlier in the day to thank her for the cookies she'd baked and sent for them and for collecting Benji's favorite toys (according to her but her Little Duck knew her Little Fox pretty well) to send. And for the 'beautiful' salt-dough dreidel and chocolate coins her and Unkie Munchie had sent so Benji could play too. During the course of the conversation Emmy had asked if Santa was going to bring her and Benji 'rocks' for their stockings.

Olivia had thought Emmy had meant coal and that her little girl was worrying that Benji being in the hospital was some sort of indication about her and her brother's behavior lately. There had been some of its less than glowing moments. But it always did when her or Brian were overloaded at work. The kids found ways to express their frustration and loneliness that they weren't getting their usual routine and as much access and affection from their parents.

But as Olivia had tried to assure her little girl that she was very sure that her and Benji been good a lot of the year and shown enough kindess to others and expressed enough gratitude out into the world – that they wouldn't be getting coal in their stockings. That Benji's flare and them being separated with this hospital stay had nothing to do with either of being bad. But Emmy had interrupted her and said, "No, Mommy, do you tink he'll bring us rocks? Like 'tones and foz-ils and gee-odes and gems and pie-rat gold and stuff? But fom diff-int geo-log-ick-al eras and parts of the world and Earth crust. A meat-or or moon rock would be good too. But dat's prolly hard to get. They rare. Mars sand too."

Umm … she'd sat rubbing her eyebrow at that. Trying to form an answer. The things that came out of her kids mouths.

"Ahh … don't think rocks are something a toy workshop really makes," was what Olivia managed to say.

"But Santa could send his elf-s to coll-ect dem," she countered.

"Well, global warming is getting kind of bad," Olivia said. "But I'm pretty sure there's still permafrost at the North Pole, Em …"

"JAH!" Emmy agreed. "But Santa go all around da world. So he could collect da rocks as he delivery toys to all dah other kids. Then come to our house and put them our stockings."

Olivia just sat there again for a beat at that. "That seems like a pretty special request, Emily," she tried again. "I think it's something you'd have to ask ahead of time so he could budget time to collect the rocks in each country and to make sure that they don't weight too much and affect the cargo load of his sleigh. That might affect the aerodynamics and not be really safe."

She could feel Emmy doing the thoughtful pucker that both her kids did even though it wasn't on video chat. Just like she knew that Munch was probably laughing in the background at them getting to wade through these kinds of questions and hypotheticals with their kids.

"I could write him another letter," Emmy suggested.

"That's an awfully long way for it to go, Emily. It wouldn't get there in time and he's so busy this time of year getting ready."

"I could call him," Emmy suggested. "FACETIME!"

Olivia had smiled a bit. "I think you'll just have to wait until next year to ask him for rocks …"

And she'd prayed that by next year this rock request would be forgotten. That it would pass as quickly as Emmy jumped from bugs to narwhals to sharks to turtles to cats to unicorns to sloths and back again. That randomness would likely work out for Jack too.

Because "Oh, OK," Jack said and made a little 'phew' gesture. It was likely an indication that a narwhal-something was about to be added to Emmy's collection in a couple days.

He turned back to Benji and nudged the box he was carrying into his nephew's view. He lifted the lid.

"Renee got these for me," he said. "I wanted to share them with you guys."

Olivia sat up a little bit straighter to see what was in the box and sighed a little at the site of the cupcakes.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she said and gave him a thin smile. "Happy Birthday."

He shrugged. "It's cool. No biggie." She frowned a little at that but he showed her the box. "They're all gluten-free and vegan and no refined sugars."

He left them held out at her but she held up her hand and shook her head. "I really haven't eaten much today, so I don't think a cupcake would be a good place to start."

"Oh … OK …," Jack said. But she could hear some disappointment there.

"I might want one later …," she offered.

He shrugged. "Sure," he said weakly but nodded over at Benji. "It's OK?"

Olivia nodded and looked at Benji. "You want to have a birthday cupcake with your uncle?"

She could tell it was a 'yes'. But he looked nervous about it. He looked between her and Jack. But Jack just gave him a bit of a smile and turned the box back to him and tilted it again for him to see.

"Which ones are OK for me?" Benji whispered staring into the box.

"All of 'em," Jack said. "Pick anyone you want."

Benji gave him another little glance. "Don't you wanna pick first? It's your birthday."

Jack shrugged. "It's cool. I can have cake whenever I want."

"But Renee got 'em for you …"

"Nah, she got them for all of us," he said and pointed at one. "Chocolate mint?"

"That's your favorite …"

"In ice cream form," Jack said and lifted it out to put on Benji's tray. He then inspected the others and declared, "Goin' do red velvet. Renee's turned me into a convert. Gotten on that bandwagon lately."

He retrieved his pick and set the box on the small table next to the couch and sat in the space that Olivia had cleared. He worked at picking at the wrapper on his, but she could see that he was watching Benji dive into his. He was licking the icing off and making a bit of a mess. It got a small smile out of both of them.

"Did they not let Renee come down?" Olivia asked.

Jack shook his head and swallowed his bite. "She had some stuff she wanted to get done before tomorrow, you know …," he said. "We're goin' hook up a bit later."

"Ahh …," Olivia said, raising her eyebrow a bit at him. He went red.

"Meet up," he corrected.

She allowed him a thin smile. "I think Cragen took your birthday present back over to the house," she said. "If you want it before Christmas …"

Jack nodded a little. "Yeah, no rush or anything. We'll likely head over there tomorrow afternoon. Apparently my office shuts down at lunch. Feed ya and then leave when you're ready. So I'll likely be out of there by like one. Renee's more iffy on her timing."

"OK …," Olivia nodded.

"But can swing by that stuff you asked about tonight if you want …"

She shook her head. "No big rush on that either," she said.

Jack stared at Benji a bit. "You gonna be home tomorrow?" he near whispered.

Olivia just shook her head and shrugged. That was about the sum of what she could say about it at the moment.

"He looks good," Jack reaffirmed. "You look real good, Ben."

Benji gave them a glance. His lips were covered in chocolate crumbs. He clearly didn't really care what they were talking about – or at least didn't feel like participating. His eyes drifted back to the television. To pretend like he was watching the Grinch while he snacked and not listening to their conversation.

"Ah, so Alex took me out for lunch today," Jack said cautiously.

"That was nice of her," Olivia allowed. She already knew this. There was an eruption of texts that had come into her phone after that lunch.

"Yea, so I didn't know that you hadn't given her too many details on … this …," he said with a little nod to Benji. "So … sorry …"

Olivia nodded. "I'd let her know we were in the hospital," she said.

"Yea, I guess she interrupted as the like usual … IV stuff," Jack said.

She allowed a small nod. "I just haven't had much of a chance to keep everyone up to date. I saw her texts this afternoon. I've worked at giving some details and reassuring her."

"Yea … well … she said if you guys need anything, to let them know. And that she's happy to have an excuse to not have to go over to New Haven on Christmas Day, if you need a hand or whatever …"

"OK," Olivia said. "Thank you."

She knew that that was likely going to be a bit more complicated to straighten out than that. She could tell from the phone message that got left and the flurry of texts – and then the immediate response to the ones she did reply to – that she'd hurt Alex's feelings by not keeping her in the loop. It wasn't a purposeful decision. It was more just trying to keep her own head above water in the moment and to ensure the best possible care – and the best possible decisions about Benji's care – were being made. Neither her nor Brian had exactly been giving even the people who were watching Emmy prompt updates either.

It was just too much – to deal with the situation, and to then have to repeat the details over and over again and field the same questions over and over again and to say 'I don't know' over and over again.

Still, she was going to have to figure out some sort of mea culpa. She'd have to do better about making some time for Alex and her family – and her own drama – when they got through this. When they got into the new year. Hopefully. Mend some bridges and try to repair the relationship. It was hard with divergent jobs and marriages and kids. They were pulled in different ways and there were different priorities. It was harder to maintain the friendship. It had to be much more purposeful. And it hadn't just been her who'd dropped the ball on that. Alex had been lax about calling or issuing dinner invites or playdates or outings too. Not that how Brian and Trevor got along made any of that easy. They were like oil and vinegar.

"Where's Brian?" Jack asked, surveying the door.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and then worked at really closing up her computer and stacking the files on top of it. She suspected that it was going to be a bit now before she got to work again. By the time Jack's visit was over, she'd likely be trying to get Benji to settle, if he hadn't decided on his own that he was ready for another sleep.

"He went to find us some dinner," Olivia said. "And he had some work calls he wanted to deal with."

Jack nodded a little and looked at Benji again. "I mean, another sign he's doing better, right? Both of you working?"

Olivia exhaled and shrugged. "We both just have some cases that need some actions taken on them before the end of the day tomorrow."

Jack glanced at her files knowingly. "It's kinda crazy …"

"I'm not going to talk about it," she put to him directly. She knew just by virtue of watching the news and seeing headlines and social media Jack was likely privy to more details than she wanted him to be and would use words and references that she didn't want Benji to become attuned to at all.

He gave her a small eyeroll. "Is Brian goin' back to Brooklyn tonight?"

"I guess it depends on if and when the doctor comes around and what gets said."

"Me and Renee can go over and stay the night with Em, if you want? Give everyone a break."

She allowed him a thin smile. "It's OK, Jack. It sounded like you had plans for your birthday."

He made a noise. "Not really. Get something to eat. Do a bit of wrapping."

"I don't like presents and wrapping …," Benji muttered.

Jack gave him a look. "OK. You want me to go your route and just hand it to you in the bag the store gave me?"

Benji gave him some side-eye at that but again gave no comment.

Jack shook his head. "So whatever. Plans are basically Netflix and chill."

"And there you go again," Olivia teased him gently. He didn't go red that time.

"Mom …," he groaned a bit at her and moved his eyes to the movie on the TV. "Hey, this one's pretty good. Jim Carrey."

Benji gave him an unimpressed look. "The one from when Mom was a kid is way better."

"Mmm," Jack said, "I never really liked that one. Thought it was kinda boring."

Benji just looked away at that. No comment.

"Think Elf is supposed to be on later," Jack said, looking at his nephew expectantly. But Benji gave no reaction. "I mean, that one's classic. Right, Ben? Remember when we went and saw that on Broadway? With Mom?"

It got a small glance from Benji. Eye movement but not head movement. He wasn't going to give his uncle that one.

"I think at this point every Christmas movie ever made is just on a 24-hour cycle," Olivia said – again trying to keep the interaction on the level.

Jack allowed her a small amused sound. He just watched the movie for a bit along with Benji. So she did too. She actually almost enjoyed the quiet – the lack of arguing between her two boys – while they were all in one room. It'd been a while since they'd truly managed that. Though, they were getting there again. Even if it was clear the dynamic wasn't ever going to be the same again.

That dynamic might be changing even more in coming months if Jack and Renee's trail run at living together worked out. And they moved to … Queens or even farther … Hyde Park, Poughkeepsie. If Jack settled into this new job and actually stuck with it. As he started navigate moving toward the end of his twenties. As he maybe even started to really grow up. And as Benji grew too – through middle school and into a teenager. A high school student who'd need to find his own path while navigating the challenges he'd been handed.

Lots of changes would be coming. Hopefully the foundation they built on wouldn't be so rocky.

Jack gave her a look after watching for a few minutes. "I can hang out here and watch a movie with him too, if that's cool with Ben?" he said, casting his nephew a look. "I mean, if you need to make some work calls or whatever. Or you and Brian want to go grab something better than what they've got down in the cafeteria. Or whatever. Errands."

She gave him a thin smile at that attempt. But they both knew it wasn't going to happen. She'd barely left his bedside. And she didn't intend to risk not getting to speak to the doctor that night. Or something happening while she wasn't there with him.

But then Benji looked at her shyly. "Mom," he said softly. "Do you know if Ducky's gonna get her Rainbocorn?"

She gave him a sad smile at that and leaned forward from the couch a bit to put her hand on his knee. "Benji, you don't need to worry about that. And we talked about this. Christmas is going to be different this year. A little. But I'm very sure Santa will have a gift for you and Emmy and Mommy and Daddy will have something under the tree for you too. But the focus is going to be on making sure all of us are as healthy as possible and as together as we can be. The focus is on our family and the people we love. Like the Grinch learns, sweetheart. It's not about the presents. It's about the people."

"I know that, Mom," Benji said. "So …. So … this is about Emmy. 'Cuz this year has been really not fun a lot for her too. And right now isn't. And her Christmas break is sucking bad right now. And she just … she's been talkin' 'bout her Rainbocorn forever, Mom. So … so … if Santa can't bring it for her 'cuz of me …"

"Benji, the changes this Christmas aren't because of you."

"Yes, they are," he said and his eyes watered at her. "'Cuz we might not even get to be home. And they aren't letting Emmy visit 'cuz she's too little and they aren't letting in the regular rooms yet. And what if I'm not down in the normal rooms tomorrow or don't get to go home?"

"Then we'll cope with that the best we know how," Olivia said. "We will use the iPad to FaceTime and Daddy and I will take turn going to see Emmy and staying here with you. And, Benji, we don't even know that's how it's going to be. Little Fox, you look like – you're acting like – you feel a whole lot better. So we just have to wait to see what the doctor says."

"But … I mean … Mom, if Santa didn't get Emmy her Rainbocorn, then I wanna. I'll give you allowance and you can go and I'll stay here with Peedg. And I'll give it to her. So she knows she's real important too. And special to … us … and like me. And it will prollymake her really, really happy."

And Olivia felt her eyes well at her little boy. Who wasn't so little in his thoughts and his challenges and his mind a lot of the time. He looked at her with glassy eyes too. And she stood and wrapped her arms around him. She held him tight against her, cradling his head.

"You're a good big brother, Benji," she said.

And he was. And she looked at Jack. Because sometimes she thought he could learn a thing or two from his little nephew.

Maybe they all could. Maybe they all were.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**I had some of my long-time readers (who regularly comment or DM me, so I know they are) express they'd like to see the end of the story.**

**So I'm attempting to wrap it up. I've eliminated the planned Tucker chapter and the planned Jack/Renee chapter and the Lindstrom chapter. Those chapters may appear if I do a 'story' that's just a collection of random O/S at some point in the future.**

**This story will now likely be only 2-3 chapters more. I'm trying to make it lighter and happier.**

**I'll pick at finishing it up over the next couple weeks. **

**Thanks to the people who do read, comment, review, etc.**


End file.
